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“ The Good-for-Nothing Graysons” 





On this stormy afternoon the Graysons were gathered 

IN THE LIBRARY.— Page 50 . 















“The Good-for-Nothing 

Graysons ” 


By 

MILLICENT EVISON 

Avihor of “ Rainbow Goldf^ “ Peggy Pretend " 


Illustrated by 

F. VAUX WILSON 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 


c 


r, c. 


/ 













Copyright, 1928, 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 


All Rights Reserved 


“The Good-for-Nothing Graysons” 


Printed in U. S. A. 


SEP 19 1928 

©C1A1054595 




To 

the memory of 
Dear Little Grannie 

E. J. E. 


CONTENTS 


1. 

“ Watch-and-Pry ” Corner 


11 

II. 

The House of Toys 


23 

III. 

The Gossn» Shop .' 


33 

IV. 

The House of Misrule . 


49 

V. 

The Angelic Imps . 


61 

VI. 

Next-Door Neighbors . 


69 

VII. 

Pan’s Brother 


84 

VIII. 

The Cheer-Uppers ” . 


96 

IX. 

The Ghost Voice . 


110 

X. 

The Sleeve of Care 


122 

XL 

Check and Checkmate ” 


129 

XII. 

Joan Puts a Finger in the Pie 

139 

XIII. 

The Lotus Group . 


150 

XIV. 

Guesses at Heaven 


162 

XV. 

Concerning Susan 


171 

XVI. 

Joan’s Confession . 


183 

XVII. 

A Lover and His Lass . 


191 

XVIII. 

Toil and Trouble . 


201 

XIX. 

Miss Fairy Godmother 


217 

XX. 

Morning’s Joy 


233 

XXL 

Grannie 


240 


7 






8 


Contents 


XXIL Spreading the News . . . 253 
XXIII. Baldur the Beautiful . . 263 

XXIY. Opal Mist. 273 

XXV. Millions of Mischiefs ’’ . . 277 

XXVI. ''Vox-Popping.... 290 

XXVII. Ii: .300 





ILLUSTRATIONS 


On this stormy afternoon the Graysons were 

gathered in the library (Page 50) Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

« WeVe come to cheer you up, you know ” . 100 

I s’pose that wedl soon be bearin’ of an¬ 
other weddin’ in your family ” . . 140 

“ Then you shall be Grannie, our own little 

Grannie! ”.246 


9 



> 




hit! 




“The Good-for-Nothing 

Graysons” 

CHAPTEE I 

« WATCH-AND-PRY ” CORNER 

Many people in Cassburn disapproved of the 
Graysons, and it was Louella Greer, the oracle 
of the village gossip-mongers, who branded the 
family name with the hyphenated adjective, good- 
for-nothing.’’ 

There’s some mystery ’bout Mr. Grayson,” she 
often declared, an’ it ain’t fit an’ proper fer a 
man o’ his years to be so handsome an’ so young- 
lookin’, like as if he was the brother ’stead o’ the 
father o’ his family, I say.” 

“Just so,” agreed Mrs. Hertz in her purring 
voice, and blinking her white-lashed eyes like a 
contented cat. 

Mrs. Hertz always corroborated Miss Louella’s 
statements with a stuffy murmur of “ just so.” She 
was a fat woman with a squat, shapeless figure, 
and she looked as though Nature, after supplying 
sufficient material for a very tall person, had spite- 

11 


12 The Good’for-Nothing Graysons'' 


fully pressed lier down into a bulging bundle of 
flesh. 

Miss Louella was tall and angular, with snappy 
black eyes like a pair of jet beads. Her thin, color¬ 
less lips were dry to the point of cracking, and 
their redness seemed to have strayed to the end 
of her long nose, from which a bead of moisture 
frequently oozed and hung like a dewdrop linger¬ 
ing on a rose. While she talked she would irrigate 
her lips with the tip of her tongue, and her nasal 
effusion gave her the disagreeable habit of punctu¬ 
ating her conversation with sniffs. 

Yes, Mr. Grayson is a mystery to all right- 
thinkin’ folks,’^ continued Miss Louella. He 
spends all his time in New York, that Sodom and 
Gomorrah place that’s so full o’ rascalities an’ 
electricities where, as the Holy Writ says, the 
wicked never cease from troublin’ an’ the weary 
don’t get time to rest. He’s all for the pomps an’ 
vanities o’ this wicked world, an’ he neglects his 
family, that’s what. An’ as for that tribe o’ boys 
an’ girls,—^well, their poor mother’s hair must be 
turnin’ gray in her grave knowin’, as she must, 
that there won’t be harps an’ halos handed out to 
her children on the Day o’ Judgment. The good- 
for-nothing Graysons is a disgrace to Cassburn. 
They’re Disgraysons, I say! ” 

Miss Louella always spoke of the Day of Judg- 



Watch-and-PryCorner 


13 


ment with the authority of one who had more than 
a personal interest in the event, as though she had 
been appointed a special agent of the Deity to re¬ 
lieve Him of all responsibility concerning the fu¬ 
ture, celestial or otherwise, of the inhabitants of 
Cassburn. 

I hope I’ll wake up good an’ early on the Last 
Day,” Jim Deane, the blacksmith, once remarked. 

I don’t want to miss the fun o’ seein’ Louella 
hustlin’ round an’ gettin’ us all sorted out an’ la¬ 
beled with tickets for our upward or downward 
journey. It’ll be a busy day for her, an’ I guess 
Saint Peter is often shakin’ in his shoes now, 
thinkin’ as how he may lose his job when Louella 
quits this world an’ goes to glory.” 

Everything about the Graysons was “ a disgrace 
to Cassburn,” according to Miss Louella: their ram¬ 
shackle house and neglected garden, their shabby 
clothes, their buoyant, youthful pride and, worst 
crime of all, their poverty. Even the street where 
they lived brought forth her censure. 

Cedar Street ought to be called Cedar Lane, 
that’s what. With grass growin’ on the road, an’ 
vi’lets an’ moss beside the fences, it looks like as 
if it was nothin’ but a cow-path, I say. But it’s 
good enough for them Graysons.” 

^^Now, Louella, why are you so down on those 
girls an’ boys ? ” questioned Mrs. Talbot, whose 



14 "" The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


sense of justice often prompted her to dispute Miss 
Louella’s statements. They can't help bein' poor, 
an' I'm sure Nancy does the best she can with her 
brothers an' sisters. It's hard for a young girl like 
her to handle a bunch o' lively young ones; an' her 
with no mother an' a father that's away all the time. 
I do admire their spunk an' their cheerful manners; 
but I vow you never have a kind word to say for 
them." 

Huh! " snorted Miss Louella. Spunk is deceit¬ 
ful an' cheerful manners is vain, Melissa; an' folks 
as poor as the Graysons have no right to be spunky 
an' cheerful, even if their ancestors were rich an’ 
had silver spoons in their mouths when they were 
born. As the Holy Writ says, I have a bearin' ear 
an' a seein' eye, an' the Lord hath made even both 
o' them: so I know what I know, an' the Graysons’ 
soft words an' manners butter no parsnips with 
me. An' there's plenty o' folks in Cassburn that'll 
agree with me when I say that the Graysons is 
different^ that's what. An' if you’ll let your mouth 
speak out o' the abundance of your heart, Melissa, 
you'll have to own up that they are different.” 

Mrs. Talbot nodded her head dubiously. Well, 
Louella, I guess you're right there; but bein' dif¬ 
ferent ain’t-" 

“ Makin’ excuses for the Graysons,” interrupted 
Miss Louella, is, as the Holy Writ says, swal- 




Watch-and-Pry " Corner. 


15 


lowin’ camels when you’d choke on a gnat. Public 
opinion is down on the Graysons, an’ public opinion 
is of the people, for the people, an’ by the people. 
You can’t alter public opinion, I say.” 

Cassburn owes a debt o’ gratitood to the Gray¬ 
sons,” was Jim Deane’s verdict; they give Louella 
an’ her bunch o’ hornets something to buzz about. 
An out-of-the-way little village like this would die 
o’ monotony if some one didn’t give the gossip- 
gabbers a tongue-tonic now an’ again. ’Tis gos¬ 
sip that makes the world go round. That’s a 
sort of a quotation, but it ain’t from Louella’^ Holy 
Writ. Louella’s tongue keeps the village cranked 
up to a lively speed that makes it important enough 
to have its name printed on the railway time¬ 
tables.” 

Trains rush past Cassburn station every day with 
prolonged screeches of warning, as though order¬ 
ing the little village to get out of the way. The 
giant monsters sweep along, belching clouds of 
smoke, and the clangorous rattling of their wheels 
gradually diminishes into a purring rumble when 
they round a curve and leave a coil of smoke curl¬ 
ing in the air and vanishing into the vastness of 
the sky. 

The engines of the two daily trains scheduled to 
stop at Cassburn always hiss and fume with a shrill 
escape of steam, as though they considered the de- 



16 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


lay an affront to their dignity; and they depart 
with ear-splitting blasts from their whistles which 
sound like hoots of derision voicing their contempt 
for the insignificant place. 

As viewed from the train windows, Cassburn is 
not prepossessing. It is like the rough under side 
of a piece of tapestry,—a vague conglomeration of 
dull colors and loose, raveled ends and knots. The 
station is a small brown building with its roof ex¬ 
tending over one end of the platform. Across the 
road, which is muddy or dusty according to the 
whim of the weather, are an abandoned paper mill 
and a long row of workmen’s dwellings, all vacant, 
with gaping doorways and windows. The neigh¬ 
boring fields are intersected by straggling rail- 
fences and dotted here and there with sagging cot¬ 
tages and gaunt, unsightly barns. In the distance, 
half a mile from the railroad, is a dense mass of 
foliage, through which gabled roofs and red brick 
chimneys peer at the sky. 

Aeroplane travelers could look down at these 
clustered trees and dwellings and see the upper side 
of the tapestry,—a quaint design of irregular 
streets, gardens, orchards, and houses, with a small 
stone church surrounded by white gravestones, like 
a gray nun standing in a garden of lilies. They 
could also see a ruined mill brooding over a willow- 
edged pond, and a brook that rambles in a round- 



Watch-and-PryCorner 


17 


about way through the village, as though it wished 
to linger among the peaceful homes instead of jour¬ 
neying onward towards the town of Bradbury, 
where it loses itself in sea-swept marshes. 

Cassburn is a picturesque, overgrown village, a 
sleeping beauty of a place whose dream of waking 
up and becoming a thriving town was thwarted 
when the paper mill ceased its activities. The wide, 
shady streets are named after trees, and wind 
among gardened homes to the shore which the sea 
has gnawed away into sandy coves and rocky 
ledges. The houses are simple, homelike, and sug¬ 
gestive of long abiding, with Virginia creeper drap¬ 
ing their weather-worn walls and roses trimming 
their porches and verandahs. With a sort of shy 
modesty they stand back in flowerful gardens, 
where beds and pathways are edged with clam-shells 
bleached so snowy white that they look as though 
they had been whitewashed. 

Louella Greer^s house crowds boldly against the 
sidewalk at the corner of Chestnut and Maple 
Streets, the two principal thoroughfares of the vil¬ 
lage. From her bay-window Miss Louella can see 
when people come and where they go, missing few, 
if any, surmise what they do, and watch for their 
return. She can look across to the churchyard on 
the opposite corner, and her evergreen memory, re¬ 
calling old, half-forgotten stories,—tragedies buried 



18 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons' 

with, the dead that have left scars in the hearts of 
the living—enables her to plant on many a grave 
the rank weeds of scandal. 

Her prim, white clapboard dwelling wears two 
signs which are like official badges proclaiming 
Miss Louella’s position in the community. Over 
the door is U. S. Post Office,’’ and a little lower at 
the left, Western Union Telegraph Company.” 

Several Cassburn women have acquired the daily 
habit of dropping in to see Miss Louella under a 
pretext of calling for their mail; a habit scarcely 
warranted by the occasional letters they receive. 
They always linger for an exchange of gossip with 
the postmistress, and the bay-window where they 
sit is known, through the sponsorship of Jim Deane, 
as Watch-and-Pry ” Corner to distinguish it from 
the church across the way which stands for Watch 
and Pray.” 

Well, the Government an’ the Almighty hev ap¬ 
pointed Louella Greer to watch an’ pry over our 
mail an’ our morals,” Jim once observed in his 
quiet, droll way, so she sorts out our letters an’ 
our sins; an’ it’s lucky for us that she don’t make 
our gravestones, else there’d be some mighty queer 
epitaphs in our cemetery. Them stones that hev 
a hand pointin’ upward, as a delicate sort o’ hint 
which way the dead hev gone, would be turned up¬ 
side down if Louella had her say-so.” 




Watch-and-Pry " Corner 


19 


Two large chestnut-trees stand like sentinels at 
the northerly end of Chestnut Street, just before it 
loses its identity in the country highway known as 
the road to Bradbury. This is the beginning of 
Cedar Street, which runs shoreward and passes the 
old Grayson house to end abruptly at the wrought- 
iron gates of Cedarwold, the home of the Thorolds. 

Cedar Street was once the private driveway of 
the Grayson home. In the old days seafaring an¬ 
cestors, returning from their long voyages, had 
driven up to the beautiful colonial house with treas¬ 
ures from the East,—rare porcelains, silks, ivory 
carvings, jewels, costly rugs, and Mandarin robes. 
Other Graysons—men and women—^had traveled 
abroad and had brought back old-world furniture 
and portraits of themselves painted by immortal 
hands. Then followed a series of unfortunate specu¬ 
lations which, coupled with feminine extravagance 
and masculine indulgence in idleness and gambling, 
drained the Grayson coffers until it became neces¬ 
sary to sell nearly all the property, leaving only 
the old neglected house and garden to harbor the 
present family. 

Lemuel Hertz bought several acres, and his house, 
facing Chestnut Street, now occupies the north cor¬ 
ner of the former driveway. The south corner was 
annexed to David Hale’s orchard. Then John 
Thorold, a wealthy ^^ew Yorker, acquired the vast 




20 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


extent of slioreland for his summer home. This 
purchase robbed the Grayson estate of the sunken 
garden with its marble seats and statuary, and the 
artificial lake which was gemmed with water-lilies 
and dotted with tiny islands, strung together with 
bridges of such an airy, fantastic construction that 
they seemed to have been built of cobwebs. 

In spite of its newness, Cedarwold soon acquired 
an old-world appearance, in keeping with its sur¬ 
roundings. Nature laid a caressing hand on the 
new house which was built among the cedars, aging 
its gray stone walls with lichen and veiling its 
angles with vines. The interior was enriched with 
spoils from an ancient English manor-house: carved 
walls, doors, ceilings, and stairways, and antique 
marble mantelpieces. 

No grass grew on the road, no violets bloomed be¬ 
side the footpath of Cedar Street when the gates of 
Cedarwold were open. The Thorolds and their 
guests filled the place every June and made each 
summer a nightmare of noise and excitement. Their 
automobiles, horseless carriages ” they were called 
in those days, honked and snorted through the 
streets, raising clouds of dust and scattering chil¬ 
dren and chickens in a mad panic. The solitude 
of the pine-woods was shattered by hilarious pic¬ 
nics. There were clam-bakes on the shore and mid¬ 
night bathing-parties in the moon-silvered sea, fol- 



Watch-and-Pry "" Corner 


21 


lowed by dances on the hard, damp sand to the 
raucous music of a phonograph. 

Sometimes the decorum of the Sunday evening 
services was disturbed when a party of Cedarwold 
guests, bored with hours of card-playing, billiards, 
and dancing, and seeking fresh diversion, came to 
church with a frivolous display of flowered and 
feathered hats, gauzy gowns and white flannel suits. 
They assumed an exaggerated Sabbatical solemnity, 
and joined in the hymns with a fervor which over¬ 
whelmed the efforts of the choir and the puny 
harmonies of Miss Louella^s organ; although, as 
Jim Deane said, she wrastled with that tune-box 
like she was pourin’ out the wrath o’ God along 
with her perspiration.” 

They jes’ make a mock o’ religion an’ turn the 
church into an opery house, that’s what,” she 
breathlessly whispered to Mrs. Hertz, and the 
choir’s leading soprano, giving an assenting nod, 
replied, Just so.” 

Cassburn disapproved of the city folks ” and 
the villagers kept their distance, as the saying goes, 
not through a sense of inferiority but rather be¬ 
cause of a sturdy, proud independence which in¬ 
creased every year and raised a wall of stubborn 
prejudice between them and the unwelcome in¬ 
truders. 

The summer orgies always ended in September 



22 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


witli a flare-up of fireworks on Labor Day, and 
during that week Cedarwold was closed for the 
winter. The days of falling leaves brought a grate¬ 
ful peace to the gasping, racket-torn village, and 
throughout the winter the Thorolds and their 
friends formed a topic for conversation at quilting- 
bees and sewing society meetings. 

Those city folks don’t do Cassburn any good 
with their vanities an’ hilarities,” was Miss Louel- 
la’s dictum. They just upset the village, that’s 
what. An’ when the Day o’ Judgment comes,— 
well, they’ll And that the Lord hasn’t any use for 
their fine clothes an’ top-lofty manners. They 
won’t go walkin’ through the streets o’ heaven with 
their noses in the air like as if there was bad smells 
around, an’ callin’ the angels ^ natives ’ like they 
do us folks in Cassburn. As the Holy Writ says, 
pride goeth before destruction an’ a haughty spirit 
before a fall, if folks don’t look before they leap, 
which they can’t do if they go about with haughty 
noses an’ chins held high, I say.” 



CHAPTEK II 


THE HOUSE OF TOYS 

In Ms early boyhood Dick Thorold often eluded 
the vigilance of his German tutor, playing truant 
from Cedarwold to revel in barefooted freedom with 
the boys of Cassburn. Mrs. Thorold disapproved 
of her son’s associating with the village hood¬ 
lums,” and the boy’s wayward wanderings always 
resulted in schoolroom captivity and extra lessons. 
The mischievous, high-spirited lad rebelled against 
the restraint of his magnificent home. He was like 
a sturdy weed transplanted from the sunny, breezy 
wayside to the artificial atmosphere of a hothouse 
where his sister Muriel, true daughter of a friv¬ 
olous, pleasure-loving mother, thrived like an or¬ 
chid. 

I hate this darned place! ” Dick passionately 
exclaimed to Muriel one day as they sat in the 
schoolroom preparing their lessons. It’s nothing 
but a house of toys. Father and Mother and all 
their friends aren’t real human beings, they all 
have withered souls, and the only hearts they know 
anything about are on playing-cards. They’re just 
mechanical toys wound up to dance, drink, play 
cards, and flirt. They’re shams, every one of them; 

23 


24 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons"" 


the women with their painted smiles and the men 
with their sneering eyes. I hate them all! A fat 
chance a boy has in this house to have any real 
fun! Mother wants me to be a Little Lord Faunt- 
leroy, and Father doesn’t care a hang. Aw, 
shucks! ” he lacked the table leg and threw his 
Latin grammar across the room. 

Muriel smiled with simpering disdain and twined 
one of her golden curls around a slim forefinger. 

You’re a silly, uncouth boy, Dick; a clumsy, awk¬ 
ward clown, as Mother often says. Why don’t you 
try to be like Ealph Gordon? He is always polite 
and never gets grubby the way you do.” 

That sissy 1 That pretty-mannered popinjay! 
I’d like to push his face down his throat. Mama’s 
little gentleman! Huh 1 ” 

The girl gathered up her books. I refuse to lis¬ 
ten to your vulgar talk. I shall go and finish my 
lessons in Mother’s boudoir, and I shall tell her 
what you’ve been saying,—calling her a mechanical 
toy with a painted smile I ” 

Sweet little sneak, aren’t you? ” grinned Dick, 
and suppose you tell Father about those French 
novels you borrow from Celeste and read on the 
sly. He’ll be frightfully interested, I bet, to learn 
that his fifteen-year-old daughter is filling her mind 
with such beastly stuff.” 

A flush of indignation flamed over Muriel’s face. 



The House of Toys 


25 


You needn’t try to preach, to me! I’m a year 
older than you, and I’ll read what I please. You 
haven’t the first instincts of a gentleman, running 
off as you do with the common boys of the village. 
You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” 

I would be ashamed of myself if I read those 
rotten books. I found one the other day hidden in 
your history, and I tried to read it; but I chucked 
it after the third chapter. If Father knew about 
your reading that filthy rot. Celeste would do a 
lively hop, skip, and jump out of the house.” 

Nothing of the sort,” retorted Muriel. Mother 
says that Celeste is the most wonderful maid she 
ever had. She is invaluable, and Mother couldn’t 
get along without her.” 

I guess that’s true,” admitted Dick. Celeste 
is useful. She does everything for Mother but 
spit.” 

Dick! you are too disgusting for words! ” Mu¬ 
riel tossed her pretty curls and left the room. 

Dick sprawled in his chair and thrust his hands 
into his pockets. His mouth drooped with dis¬ 
content as he pumped up lugubrious sighs from the 
bottom of his heart. 

Aw, gee! life’s a rotten sell for a boy like me! 
I wish we weren’t rich. I wish we lived in a shanty 
instead of this old toy-shop! I’m sick of watching 
candy dudes foodling about with a bunch of dizzy 



26 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


dames. Some day, by gosh! I’ll run away, and 
then,—Oh gee! ” 

His lithe form straightened, a frank, boyish smile 
spread over his face, and his brown eyes glowed 
with enthusiasm as he brought his hands together 
with a resounding clap. 

The first time Dick ran away he went on a ten- 
day trip in a fishing-smack. A wild, wonderful 
holiday it was, his first taste of liberty. He re¬ 
turned home sun-bronzed and ruddy with the rough 
caresses of the wind, gloriously dirty and smelling 
of fish, his vocabulary enriched with nautical 
phrases which made his mother wince. 

The good-natured fishermen were peremptorily 
warned not to take him on another fishing excur¬ 
sion, so the second time he broke bounds he boarded 
a train for J^ew York. Four days later detectives 
picked him up in the Bowery, hungry, dirty, but 
defiantly happy in his unwonted freedom. 

After these runaway escapades of Dick’s, Herr 
Maximilian von Geyer’s position became that of 
jailer as well as tutor, a role in which he demon¬ 
strated his national efficiency. Fortunately Dick 
loved music, and his violin was his soul-saver,” 
as he called it. Herr Max was a skilled musician, 
and he took a keen delight in developing the boy’s 
talent. Music gradually fostered a sense of com¬ 
radeship between master and pupil, a loyal friend- 



The House of Toys 


27 


ship which, w^as never expressed in words, for Dick 
would have scorned any display of sentiment, hut 
which they both remembered years later when they 
met in a German dugout in Flanders. There, in 
the dim grayness of dawn, a dying Prussian officer 
recognized his former American pupil in the young 
soldier wearing a British uniform who suddenly 
started back and lowered his bayonet. 

“Englisher Schweinhund! Ach Dick! Guten 
Morgen, Knabe! Ach so! as Dick knelt in the mud 
and supported the great, limp body in his arms. 
^^Ach, mein Knabe, das Leben ist—^what you said 
—a rotten sell, nicht wahr? Nun, spielen wir— 
Ach! Lebe wohl, mein Knabe, lebe- 

Herr Max shuddered and slipped from Dick's 
arms. 

When Dick was sixteen his parents were di¬ 
vorced. Mrs. Thorold then married a wealthy 
South American, and the invaluable Celeste accom¬ 
panied her to her new home below the equator; but 
Muriel and Dick remained with their father. If the 
mother felt any regret over leaving her children, 
she failed to show it. Indeed, the only emotion she 
experienced was a sense of relief that her youthful 
appearance would no longer be contradicted by the 
presence of ^Hwo great, growing children,” which 
was all that could be expected from a woman whose 
heart pulsations were merely functional. 




28 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons '' 


Mr. Thorold retired from active business life and 
settled in bis country borne where be devoted bim- 
self to tbe costly and fascinating bobby of jewel¬ 
collecting. Cedarwold was tbe scene of lavish en¬ 
tertainments when Muriel and Dick came borne for 
tbe holidays. There was tbe same tinsel glitter 
and unreal glamor about tbe bouse of toys as in tbe 
days of Mrs. Tborold^s supremacy. The place was 
filled with guests, and there were dances and end¬ 
less bridge-games where Muriel played so recklessly 
that her allowance was seldom able to keep up with 
her obligations. 

At tbe preparatory school where Dick was sent 
after bis parents’ divorce be was constantly threat¬ 
ened with expulsion. Then followed a brief, stormy 
career at college, during which bis boyish escapades 
estranged him from bis father, who bad apparently 
forgotten tbe joyous adventures of bis own youth. 
Through servants’ gossip tbe people of Cassburn 
learned of Dick’s frequent quarrels with bis father. 
Tbe boy was looked upon as a black sheep, and tbe 
villagers predicted that be would come to a bad end. 

That boy ain’t never been a credit to Cassburn,” 
said Miss Louella, who bad often been a victim of 
Dick’s practical jokes, an’ it’s just bis father bein’ 
so rich that keeps him out o’ Bradbury jail, that’s 
what. Didn’t be come into tbe post-office yesterday, 
so drunk be could hardly stand, an’ talkin’ like as 



The House of Toys 


29 


if his mouth was filled with mush. ‘ Mish Louella,’ 
he says, ^ you^re shimply adorable,^ he says. ^ Oh, 
lovely Louella, howsh the Day o’ Jushment? ’ Then 
he walks across to Brackett’s store as straight an’ 
steady as you please, an’ tells Sam Brackett how 
he’d been shockin’ me into fits pretendin’ to be 
drunk, an’ makin’ a play-actin’ fool of himself.” 

Shortly after a violent scene between father and 
son, occasioned by a letter from the dean of Dick’s 
college and the boy’s confession of debts, coupled 
with a request for money which was refused with 
the usual recriminations, a valuable emerald ring 
disappeared from Mr. Thorold’s collection. A 
house-party was assembled at Cedarwold for Mu¬ 
riel’s marriage, but none of the guests knew of the 
bitter quarrel that resulted in Dick’s being turned 
adrift, penniless and blackened with his father’s 
accusation of theft. 

The boy faced his father with a sturdy denial 
and vehement protestations of innocence until a 
glance at Muriel’s pale, frightened face, quivering 
lips, and imploring eyes made him realize that his 
sister was the thief. He tossed his head back with 
a contemptuous laugh. 

All right, have it your own way. Dad. Yes, I 
stole the ring. IN'ow, what are you going to do 
about it? ” 

Mr. Thorold sat for a moment in petrified silence, 



30 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


rigid with fury. The blood mounted to his fore¬ 
head, purpling his face. 

You dastardly liar, you thieving young scoun¬ 
drel ! Get out of the house,—get out, I say! For 
your sister’s sake I spare you the disgrace of arrest 
and imprisonment. Leave the house at once,—^you 
are no longer a son of mine. I’ve done with you! ” 
the father shouted and, tearing himself from his 
daughter’s detaining hands, he left the room. 

Dick shrugged his shoulders and smiled grimly. 

Never mind. Sis! ” he said, as the weeping girl 
clung to him, ^^it isn’t such an awful fate to be 
turned out of this house. I’ve never fitted in here, 
as you know. Buck up, old girl, and work the soft 
pedal on your card-games in the future. Don’t fret 
about me. I’ll be all right, never fear! I’d better 
be off. Er,—^let me have a dollar or two, will you? 
I’m broke. Thanks! ” as she thrust a roll of bills 
into his hand. 

Oh, Dick, how can I thank you? I had to have 
money, and I was afraid to ask Dad; so I took the 
emerald and pawned it. You’ll write to me, won’t 
you? ” she pleaded, and some day I’ll redeem the 
ring and tell Dad all about it. Then he will know 
you are innocent.” 

Dick laughed gaily. Yes, I’ll write,—^if there’s 
anything to write about. Don’t worry about your 
good-for-nothing brother, and don’t get yourself in 



The House of Toys 


31 


bad with. Dad by fessing up about the ring. Forget 
it! Let this secret of ours be my wedding present 
to you. And now, I^m off. I’m nineteen, a jolly 
age; and the world is wide and open before me. 
I’m running away again, old girl; and this time I’ll 
manage to earn my bread and salt with my fiddle. 
Good-bye, Sis,—good luck! ” 

So Dick disappeared on the eve of his sister’s 
wedding. He fiddled his way through a merry, 
vagabond existence, drifting into odd corners of 
the world and winning friends everywhere with his 
lucky smile, his fund of good-natured humor and 
drollery, and his honest brown eyes which people 
learned to trust. There were emergencies when he 
found his watch useful for other purposes than 
telling the hour o’ day. Many a time he was cold, 
wet, hungry, and homeless; but his indomitable 
courage enabled him to laugh at the hardships he 
encountered, and he kept most of his illusions in¬ 
tact as he journeyed into manhood along the stony 
road of poverty. He faced the wind and rain of 
life’s buffetings with a song of youth and freedom 
in his heart. 

Muriel came home within a year of her marriage, 
broken-hearted and dying. A pitiful confession 
from her trembling lips wrung her father’s soul. 

I stole that emerald, Dad, and pawned it to pay 
my gambling debts, after you had refused to in- 



32 


The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


crease my allowance and liad forbidden me to play. 
I was afraid to tell you, for in certain moods you 
would have denounced me before every one. I was 
a coward, and Dick took the blame to save me. Poor 
Dick was always the scapegoat I Find him. Dad,— 
find him and ask him to come home! ’’ 

But Dick was not to be found. He was far away 
in France with a band of strolling players, giving 
performances in the courtyards of quaint country 
inns in peaceful, happy little villages that were to 
be the scene of a ghastly conflict and become known 
as the immortal fields of France. 

Muriel was laid to rest in the churchyard by the 
sea. Cedarwold was closed and left a prey to dust 
and gloom, for its rooms were haunted with bitter 
memories that drove the lonely, conscience-stricken 
father forth in aimless wanderings through the 
countries of the East,—^to seek forgetfulness in the 
lands of flowery charm and ancient wisdom. 

And now, after eight years. Cedar Street is a 
narrow lane of tall, shaggy trees. In shady corners 
small ridges of snow are melting into the moss, 
where spring will scatter white violets, and grass 
is greening over the road. There is a constant repe¬ 
tition of fragmentary notes, like a haunting phrase 
of a half-remembered song; then a swift whirr of 
wings and a flash of redbreasts among the dark 
boughs. Eobins are nesting. 



CHAPTER III 


THE GOSSIP SHOP 

The men of Cassburn regarded Louella Greer 
with a good-natured tolerance, and condoned tbeir 
wives’ babit of visiting Watcb-and-Pry ” Corner 
on the theory that men must work and women must 
talk. 

The boys, one and all, disliked and feared her. 
If her all-seeing eyes failed to observe any of their 
mischievous pranks her ears always heard of them, 
and her busy tongue never missed an opportunity 
of enlightening mothers who would otherwise have 
remained in ignorance of their sons’ derelictions. 

Many a time boys went supperless to bed and 
fell asleep wishing that the old-time custom of duck¬ 
ing witches could be revived, so that they might see 
their enemy gasping, spluttering, and dripping 
after an ignominious immersion. 

One night several lads quietly clambered out of 
their bedroom windows and slid down kitchen roofs 
to attend a moonlight meeting which had been 
planned for executing vengeance on “ that hunk o’ 
misery, that gabby old witch Louella.” 

It was a lovely night of silver magic. The roads 
were white and glistening, as though covered with 

83 


84 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


frost, and weird shadows lurked under the trees. 
The rhythmic murmuring of the sea floated through 
the air, as if the waves were crooning a lullafly to 
the sleeping village. 

The hoys gathered before Miss Louella’s door, 
their chuckles muffled with the handkerchiefs they 
wore as masks in true desperado fashion. With 
whispers of caution they carefully propped Jim 
Deane’s ladder, which they had appropriated, 
against the wall and removed the Post-Office sign 
from over the door. The moon seemed to smile 
down at them as they proceeded to paint some 
sprawling green letters on the back of the sign. 
Then they restored it to its supporting hooks with 
the reverse side outward. 

Mean old tongue-wagger! She ought to be muz¬ 
zled,” muttered one lad. 

The next morning—the first of April—^when Sam 
Brackett opened the door of his general store and 
came out to sweep the steps, he glanced across the 
way and saw over Miss Louella’s door what the 
^‘minions of the moon” had accomplished. 

^oss’ip 5 hop 

He called to his wife, who came downstairs in 
petticoat and curl-papers to share his laughter. 



The Gossip Shop 


35 


Then lie hurried over to the blacksmith’s shop where 
the swelling leaf-buds of a large chestnut-tree were 
shedding their sticky sheaths, making the ground 
look as though it were sprinkled with brown bee¬ 
tles. 

Jim Deane was starting a fire in his forge when 
Sam’s jubilant shout brought him from his smoke- 
grimed shop. The two men chuckled with keen 
masculine enjoyment in anticipation of Miss Lou- 
ella’s chagrin when she discovered the outrage. 

By heck! Louella’ll be madder’n a hornet when 
she sees that,” laughed Jim. 

Strange to say, several women passed in and out 
of the post-office that morning without observing 
the change in the sign. While Mrs. Talbot and 
Mrs. Hertz chatted with Miss Louella in the bay- 
window they wondered why so many men lingered 
in front of Jim’s smithy. 

Seems like most o’ the men are having tools 
mended or sharpened to-day, an’ they ain’t in a 
hurry to get away either,” remarked Mrs. Talbot, 
during a lull in the conversation after they had 
hazarded various guesses as to the price of Jessie 
Neve’s new hat; and Miss Louella had declared that 
it was a shame and a disgrace the way Mrs. Neve 
indulged that girl, she being just a poor wash¬ 
woman and having to work hard for every dollar 
she earned. 



86 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


Huh.! ” snorted Miss Louella. Seems like the 
men’re takin’ a holiday an’ gettin’ their tongues 
sharpened, that’s what. Jim Deane’s shop is a dis¬ 
grace to Cassburn. It’s as bad as a saloon, I say. 
Every day I look over an’ see men bangin’ round 
an’ gossipin’ when they ought to be home workin’.” 

Jim is real sociable,” observed Mrs. Talbot, “ an’ 
he’s the most popular man in Cassburn. The men 
like to hear him talk in his slow, wise way.” 

Miss Louella gave a contemptuous sniff which re¬ 
moved the moist bead from the end of her nose. 

Sociable is as sociable does, an’ I ain’t sayin’ that 
Jim ain’t popular. But, as the Holy Writ says, 
birds of a feather flock together, an’ where there 
are two or three men gathered together in Jim 
Deane’s shop they ain’t talkin’ politics or crops. 
An’ that picture that Jim let the circus people paste 
on his open door last summer ain’t a fit sight for 
decent folks to look at; with those half-naked 
women flyin’ and jumpin’ through hoops, an’ 
bangin’ onto swings wuth their teeth an’ their toes, 
an’ wearin’ snakes ’stead o’ clothes. Jim ought to 
be made to keep his door shut, I say.” 

But that would darken his shop so, his windows 
bein’ so small an’ cobwebby,” objected Mrs. Talbot. 

Then he ought to be made to tear the picture 
off,” snapped Miss Louella. ''Every time I look 
out o’ my window I blush with maidenly shame at 



The Gossip Shop 


3T 


tlie sight o’ those brazen hussies. That open door 
is an insult to Cassburn women, I say.” 

There’s Nancy Grayson go in’ into Brackett’s 
store.” Mrs. Hertz peered through the stiff lace 
curtains. They’re owin’ Sam Brackett quite a 
bill, I hear. Now, I declare that family’s a disgrace 
to Cassburn, as you often say, Louella, with its 
stuckupedness an’ its shiftless ways. They didn’t 
mow their lawn once last summer, an’ their front 
gate has been bangin’ on one hinge for months. 
It’s a good thing that old house o’ theirs is off by 
itself in Cedar Street where strangers passin’ 
through the village can’t see it. It fairly mortifies 
me every time I look at it from my back door.” 

“ I called there the other day,” Miss Louella’s 
tone implied that her visit was an act of magnani¬ 
mous condescension, an’ their parlor certainly is 
a sight! The wall-paper is faded an’ shows where 
the big pictures used to hang. For, as the Holy Writ 
says,—riches make themselves wings, an’ when pov¬ 
erty comes in at the door pictures come down off the 
walls. You know, every time Mr. Grayson comes 
home he takes a picture away with him to sell in 
New York. He’s awful particular an’ fussy ’bout 
the way they are packed, Tom Willis told me; has 
’em wrapped in old blankets an’ screwed into boxes 
that Tom makes specially to fit, like as if they were 
coffins for corpses. The pictures are worth a lot 



38 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


o’ money, Harry Grayson told Tom, but I wouldn’t 
give a dollar for any of ’em. They’re just old-fasb- 
ioned men an’ women, the Graysons’ rich, an¬ 
cestors.” 

Solomon Simpson says they were painted by 
famous artistses who charged hundreds o’ dollars 
for doin’ the job; an’ now that the artistses are 
dead the price o’ the pictures has gone up,” volun¬ 
teered Mrs. Talbot. 

Well, I paid five dollars an’ fifty cents for havin’ 
Pa ’n’ Ma’s photographs enlarged, an’ that included 
the price o’ the frames,” said Miss Louella. “ The 
pictures are fine, real natural an’ lifelike, an’ they 
look exactly as Pa ’n’ Ma did when they were layin’ 
in their coffins. The frames are real handsome— 
gilt water-lilies with copper-colored leaves, an’ a 
border o’ red plush inside. But, as I was sayin’, the 
Graysons’ parlor is a sight! The last time Mr. 
Grayson was home he took away the rugs, an’ they 
ain’t bothered since to paint or varnish the floor. 
I didn’t think much o’ the rugs, anyhow. They had 
no sort o’ pattern, just twisty-twirly things all over 
them, like worms mixed with sausage meat. An’ 
the colors warn’t nearly as fine as the new velvet 
pile I have in my spare bedroom, with red and yel¬ 
low roses an’ green vines on a purple ground, 
an’-” 

Solomon Simpson says,” interrupted Mrs. Tal- 




The Gossip Shop 


89 


bot, that those old rugs was worth a fabulust sum 
o’ money. Some o’ them was heathen sort o’ carpets 
for prayin’ on.” 

Whoever heard o’ heathen prayin’? ” cried Miss 
Louella. Don’t we have a collection twice a year 
at the church for raisin’ money so that missionaries 
can go to Afric’s sunny fountains an’ India’s coral 
strand, to teach the heathens an’ heathenesses to 
pray properly an’ not bow down to wood an’ stone, 
like the hymn-book says they do? An’ if the mis¬ 
sionaries spend our money in buyin’ carpets for the 
heathen to pray on, when what they need most is 
clothes to cover ’em, for if they wear anything at 
all it’s only a dish clout round their waists; well,— 
not another cent o’ mine goes to missions, I say! 
An’ as for Solomon Simpson, he thinks he has the 
wisdom o’ the old Bible Solomon ’cause he reads 
them three Shakesperience books o’ his, an’ talks 
poetry like as if he was King David singing psalms. 
With all his reading knowledge, he’s nothing but a 
village cobbler. As the Holy Writ says, let every 
man’s work be made manifest, an’ a cobbler is 
known by his shoes an’, therefore, should he stick 
to his last.” 

Well, I think Solomon Simpson is a real clever 
man,” declared Mrs. Talbot, “ he uses long diction¬ 
ary words an’-” 

^^Huh!” interposed Miss Louella, ^^long words 




40 "" The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


break no bones. I’m glad the War is over an’ we 
don’t bave to worry ’bout German spies in our 
midst an’ bave Solomon Simpson struttin’ about 
dressed up as a military policeman, an’ boldin’ bim- 
self like a green bay-tree, like as if be OAvned tbe 
village.” 

^^Well,” observed Mrs. Talbot tilting ber cbin 
aggressively, I tbink it gave the village style and 
distinguisbment to bave Solomon walkin’ about in 
bis kbaki union suit. I vow be was a credit to 
Cassburn, like tbe Statue o’ Liberty is to ^"'ew 
York.” 

Pie was a statue of oddity, that’s what! ” 
sneered Miss Louella, a short, thin man with bis 
white hair an’ rosy cheeks like a healthy baby.” 

Louella, you certainly do snap up wrong ideas 
from Avhat folks say! ” began Mrs. Talbot. I 
ain’t sayin’ that Solomon was like the Statue o’ 
Liberty, an’ you’re makin’ out that I am.” 

Before Miss Louella could reply, Mrs. Hertz 
steered tbe discussion from the dangerous reef of 
argument into a calm sea of general disapproval 
of the Grayson family. 

Tbe Graysons ain’t bad meat on their table for 
quite a spell. Every day, just before I dish up my 
dinner, I go down to my back fence an’ sniff as bard 
as I can, an’ I ain’t smelled meat cookin’ in their 
kitchen for more’n three weeks. They must live 



The Gossip Shop 


41 


awful skimpy! Last year I often saw the Grayson 
twins climbin’ into the Thorold orchard an’ stealin’ 
the fruit; an’ I s’ppose they’ll do the same this year 
to help out with their vittles.” 

The way those Graysons are growin’ up is some¬ 
thing scandalous, that’s what! ” pronounced Miss 
Louella, an’ the names they call the twins is an 
insult to the church where they were properly 
christened Philip and Florence. The idea o’ turnin’ 
those Christian names into Flip an’ Flop! Sounds 
like a pair o’ clowns in a circus, I say! ” 

Just so,” added Mrs. Hertz. The good-for- 
nothing Graysons is too fresh an’ free with their 
nicknames. The other day the twins called my Eric 
^ Earache Hurts.’ Think o’ that now! An’ I had 
my Eric christened after a hero in a book, an’ he 
lived in a castle with glowin’ dark eyes an’ magnifi¬ 
cent marble stairways an’ a black mustache; an’ he 
married a Gipsy girl with a mole on her arm, which 
proved in the last chapter that she was a real count¬ 
ess, but she’d been stolen from her cradle when she 
was an infant.” 

Eric is a real stylish name, an’ it’s just like the 
Graysons to make a joke of it,” remarked Miss 
Louella. An’ I’m not a bit surprised to hear that 
they steal fruit from the Thorold place. That whole 
family’ll land in jail, that’s what! ” 

I don’t know as I blame Flip an’ Flop for 



42 The Good-for~Nothing Graysons'' 


helpin’ themselves to fruit in the Thorold gardens,” 
argued Mrs. Talbot. ‘‘ It’s just goin’ to waste with 
that place bein’ closed for so long. I wouldn’t call 
it stealin’.” 

Stealin’s stealing whichever way you look at 
it,” asserted Miss Louella, an’ when the Lord went 
to the trouble o’ thinkin’ out the Ten Command¬ 
ments He carved them on tables o’ stone, Melissa 
Talbot, so that you an’ Moses couldn’t change ’em to 
suit the Graysons. An’ He said as plain as plain, 
—‘ Thou shalt not steal.’ ” 

Maybe He’d have said more, if there’d been 
room enough for extra words,—explainin’ that 
stealin’ things that’re goin’ to waste ain’t really a 
sin,” suggested Mrs. Talbot. 

There you are, Melissa! ” ejaculated Miss Lou¬ 
ella, puttin’ ideas into the Lord’s head that He’d 
blush to think of; an’ you a member o’ the church! ” 
Mrs. Talbot cleared her throat for a spirited re¬ 
tort, but Mrs. Hertz quickly intervened with a re¬ 
mark which was like oil poured on the troubled 
waters. 

It does seem a pity that the Thorold place 
should be shut up all these years. I wonder what’s 
become o’ Mr. Thorold an’ Dick, an’ why they ain’t 
never come back! It’s a shame for families to break 
up like that, divorces an’ death an’ quarrels, an’ 
them so rich, too.” 




The Gossip Shop 


43 


That whole family o’ Thorolds’ll make a poor 
showin’ on the Day o’ Judgment,” announced Miss 
Louella. As the Holy Writ says, the parents did 
eat of sour grapes, an’ what’s one man’s meat is 
another man’s poison; an’ a boy brought up in a 
divided house, like Dick was, is sure to be a prodi¬ 
gal son, I say! ” 

Just so. You certainly have a powerful mem¬ 
ory for Scripture, Louella! ” said Mrs. Hertz ad¬ 
miringly. 

Miss Louella smiled complacently. Yes, Susie, 
I keep my lamp lit an’ my loins girded by readin’ 
two chapters o’ the Holy Writ every night before T 
go to bed; an’ when I express my opinions I can al¬ 
ways do it with the knowledge that the Holy Writ’ll 
back up what I say. An’ when the Bridegroom 
cometh on the Day o’ Judgment, I’ll not be a foolish 
virgin with no oil in my lamp of understandin’. I 
shall approach the Throne o’ Grace with a sure an’ 
certain hope of a joyful reception.” 

Just so,” nodded Mrs. Hertz. 

There’s ^ancy Grayson cornin’ out o’ Brackett’s 
now,” said Mrs. Talbot. I wonder what she an’ 
Sam’s laughin’ at! They’re lookin’ over here an’ 
laughin’ like they’d split.” 

Clancy always has a smile on her face,” sniffed 
Miss Louella, an’ a smilin’ countenance showeth 
a mind void of understandin’, I say.” 




44 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


Well, Louella,’’ Mrs. Talbot welcomed another 
opportunity of disagreeing with the postmistress, 
it ainT no crime to smile. I think Nancy^s real 
good to look at, always bright an’ cheerful; an’ her 
hair an’ complexion just matches the girl on the 
calendar I got with John’s tobacco coupons las’ 
Christmas.” 

Complexion! ” cried Miss Louella, any girl, if 
she wants to, can have a calendar complexion these 
days, even if the Lord hasn’t seen fit to give her 
one. Speakin’ for myself, I say a right-minded fe¬ 
male would scorn to make her face different from 

what the Lord intended it to be. An’ as for Nancv’s 

«/ 

hair, it’s brazen enough to make the sun stand still; 
but all is not gold that glitters these days, an’ hair 
bleach is cheap an’ often advertised.” 

Mrs. Talbot was about to vouch for the genuine¬ 
ness of Nancy’s hair and complexion when the girl 
hurried across the street and entered the post-office 
with a cheery Good morning! ” 

‘‘What were you an’ Sam Brackett laughin’ 
about? ” asked Mrs. Hertz. 

Nancy’s face dimpled with a mischievous smile. 
“ Just an April fool joke he told me about. Is there 
any mail for me. Miss Louella? ” 

“ No,” answered the postmistress, “ there’s noth¬ 
ing for you to-day; but you’re mentioned on a post¬ 
card I have here for Mrs. Hale.” 



The Gossip Shop 45 

^^Anil? How—er—interesting! Thank you for 
telling me/’ 

You ain’t heard from your father for a long 
time, I’ve noticed,” continued Miss Louella. I 
s’pose he’ll be payin’ you a visit soon.” 

Perhaps. Two stamps, please.” 

Jim Deane came in breathlessly. “ How’s this, 
Louella? Hev you quit runnin’ the post-office? 
Cassburn’s all stirred up over your new sign. Did 
you paint it yourself? ” he winked at Nancy. 

My new sign? You needn’t try to get off any o’ 
your April fool jokes on me, Jim Deane. While the 
Lord gives me strength to serve the Government, 
an’ the Government treats me on the level. I’ll run 
this post-office; an’ the only new sign you’ll ever 
see on my door’ll be a streamer o’ crape, that’s 
what.” 

Jim scratched his head dubiously. Well, Lou¬ 
ella, I guess my eyesight’s failin’ me, but there’s 
quite a crowd over at Brackett’s an’ I bet a dollar 
to a hole in a doughnut that they’re passin’ remarks 
on your new sign. Jes’ step outside an’ see for 
yourself.” 

I vow there’s something up, an’ I’m goin’ out 
to see what it is.” Mrs. Talbot hurried out to the 
street. 

My grief an’ patience! ” she exclaimed. Lou¬ 
ella, come out an’ see what’s happened! ” 



46 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


Miss Louella and Mrs. Hertz joined her, and sev¬ 
eral villagers crossed the street to form a laughing 
group about the postmistress. Her tall, gaunt form 
grew rigid, an angry flush suffused her thin face, 
and she had the peculiar, agonized expression of a 
person about to sneeze. 

Among the spectators was Jerry West, a tall, 
broad-shouldered, smooth-faced man with a nimbus 
of reddish-gold hair; a crown of glory like that 
worn by Paderewski when he flrst startled the 
world with his wizardry on the ivory keys. There 
was nothing repulsive about Jerry, although he was 
simple-minded and was often called the village idiot. 
His features were flnely chiseled, his smile was 
childlike in its sweetness, and his blue eyes had the 
rapt, dreamy gaze of a visionary. Simple Jerry 
always laughed when others did, and it was his 
deep, booming mirth that roused Miss Louella from 
her speechless amazement. 

She loosened her jaw with a grim smile of 
virtuous superiority. If you folks can see a joke 
in what is an insult to the Government, laugh if 
you like. But the Holy Writ says,—as the crack¬ 
lin’ o’ thorns under a pot, so is the laughter o’ fools; 
an’ he who laughs the longest laughs last. Jerry, 
you go an’ get my ladder an’ turn that sign.” 

She flounced into the house and closed the door 
with a resounding bang. The three green shades of 



The Gossip Shop 


47 


lier bay-window were pulled down with rough jerks 
that almost tore them from their poles and weak¬ 
ened the springs. 

For several days Miss Louella maintained a chilly 
aloofness of manner and greeted her visitors with 
a frosty smile. The women were not encouraged 
to linger for their customary interchange of gossip 
and, after brief remarks on the weather, they de¬ 
parted wishing that poor Louella would soon re¬ 
cover from the April fool joke which they did not 
venture to mention in her presence. 

Jim Deane was irrepressible and, one morning 
after receiving his mail, he spoke to her with a 
tender solicitude which was belied by the mis¬ 
chievous twinkle in his eyes. 

“ Say, Louella, I^m worried ’bout you, really I 
am! You ain’t yourself these days. You act as if 
you hed paralysis o’ the tongue. An’ your business 
seems to be failin’ off. You ought to advertise your 
Gossip Shop, really you ought, Louella. It pays to 
advertise, you know.” 

Miss Louella’s dry lips curved with a disdainful 
simper. As the Holy Writ says, Jim Deane, you 
multiply words without knowledge, an’ it’s not for 
me to answer a fool accordin’ to his folly. But a 
word spoken in due season is like a stitch in time: 
so I’ll say right here an’ now that, when the last 
trumpet soundeth on the Day o’ Judgment, you’ll 



48 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


find yourself among tlie brayin^ goats an’ not with 
the ninety and nine that are sittin’ high an’ dry on 
the starry throne. An’ when it comes to gossip,— 
well, let him that is without guile live in a glass 
house an’ throw stones; but your gossipin’ tongue 
don’t hide its light under a bushel or its needle in 
a haystack, that’s w^hat! ” 



CHAPTEE IV 


THE HOUSE OF MISRULE 

For over three weeks April was in a good humor 
and pretended she was May. There were occasional 
showers of warm, gentle rain, like silver beads 
strung on threads of sunlight; showers that coaxed 
the leaves from the bare branches of the trees and 
played “ I-spy with the flowers, routing them from 
their winter hiding-places. 

In the woods the pale, delicate clusters of the 
trailing arbutus bloomed shyly under their coarse, 
rusty leaves, hepaticas raised their downy heads, 
and trilliums opened their white chalices. Masses 
of violets appeared in the meadows, like splashes 
of blue paint. 

In the gardens, tulip-beds were a riot of color, the 
lilacs wore their purple plumes, apple-trees were 
flushed with pink-tipped buds among their snowy 
blossoms, and the chestnuts, with their fanlike 
leaves spread out, disclosed their flowery cones and 
looked like Christmas trees decked with candles. 

Every one exclaimed about the weather,— 

April’s surprise party,” Jim Deane called it. 

April grew tired of hearing herself praised, and 
one Saturday she gave way to a tantrum in which 

49 


50 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


slie revealed herself as the fickle jade that poets 
have immortalized. The sky was covered with gray 
clouds, low and menacing; a cold, boisterous wind 
raced off the leaden sea and the waves lashed the 
shore, tossing spray and pebbles over the rocks. 
Then came a deluge of rain, whipping the trees and 
pelting the tulips until they were prostrate, like a 
vanquished army, their green uniforms and brilliant 
banners of crimson, yellow, and white, torn and 
spattered with mud. 

On this stormy afternoon the Graysons were gath¬ 
ered in the library. It was a nondescript, dingy, 
untidy room lighted by four recessed windows, and 
it served as a workshop and general living-room. 
IN’ear one of the windows was a plain table littered 
with a large lump of damp clay, blocks of wood, 
drawing-pads, pencils, and painting materials. A 
larger table of scratched and dented mahogany 
stood in the centre of the room. The walls were 
lined with bookshelves filled with worn volumes and 
unbound magazines. There were loose piles of 
books on the floor, which Joan had taken from the 
shelves and neglected to replace. 

A cheerful fire of driftwood burned in the grate, 
—a battlefield of flames roaring and crackling with 
frequent explosions that sent volleys of sparks sky¬ 
rocketing up the great sooty chimney. 

In a dim corner of the room stood an old grand- 



The House of Misrule 


51 


fatlier’s clock, ticking solemnly and striking the 
hours when the hands indicated the half-hours. A 
cuckoo-clock in the hall chimed melodiously hut 
never in unison with the living-room clock, for it 
was an advocate of daylight saving and gained 
twenty minutes each day. The stubborn irregular¬ 
ities of these two guardians of time had caused 
Harry Grayson to name them Ananias and Sap- 
phira. 

]S'ancy sat by the large table darning stockings. 
The mending-basket on the floor beside her chair 
was overflowing with loose hosiery, although neat 
little black, white, and tan piles on the table showed 
that she had already mended several pairs. 

Nancy was the eldest of the Grayson family. 
Her twentieth birthday was only a few weeks away. 
Midsummer Eve. She was a small, slender girl 
with crinkly, copper-tinted hair, radiant complex¬ 
ion, and dark-lashed eyes which had a chameleon 
power of changing their color. When they sparkled 
with twinkles, their usual habit, Nancy’s eyes were 
green; but a frown of worry turned them gray, 
excitement dilated their pupils until they appeared 
black, and when she wore her old velvet dress they 
mirrored its blue. To-day her eyes had a hazel 
gleam which they stole from her brown serge dress 
and the pretty topaz brooch that fastened her lace 
collar. 



52 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 

Her father had sent her the brooch with his 
merry greetings on the previous Christmas. The 
price of it would have paid the long-standing ac¬ 
count at Brackett’s store and thus relieved Nancy 
of considerable anxiety. It would also have enabled 
the family to celebrate the festive day with better 
fare than the boiled salt pork and baked potatoes 
which, owing to a depletion of Nancy’s funds, as¬ 
sumed the leading role of their Christmas dinner 
instead of the seasonable turkev. 

t/ 

Sixteen-year-old Joan was huddled on the floor 
in a shadowy corner of the room where she was 
looking through old magazines, her favorite rainy- 
day occupation. She was barricaded with piles of 
torn, dusty Harpers, Centurys, Atlantics, and 
Scribners, so ancient that they antedated her birth. 
Ungainly shoulders and one leg stretched out to full 
length showed that she was a lank, overgrown girl. 
She frequently tossed her head to throw back her 
straight black hair which was at the awkward stage 
between Dutch-cut and shoulder length. Joan’s 
eyes were gray and peered short-sightedly through 
gold-rimmed spectacles. She was an omnivorous 
reader. Anything in the shape of a book,—^history, 
biography, essays, novels, even the frothiest of 
light fiction—^was fodder for Joan’s mind. 

Skimpy meals and shabby clothes never bothered 
Joan. AU she asked of life was to be allowed to 



The House of Misrule 


53 


read and suck her thumb, a habit she had acquired 
in babyhood. Years of family teasing had failed 
to cure her of. this infantile trick which she declared 
she would abandon on her eighteenth birthday, for 
when she reached that mature age she intended to 
smoke a pipe. 

Harry was seated beside his work-table painting 
a water-color sketch of Monica, who sat patiently 
still on a carved, high-backed chair near one of the 
windows. He was just an ordinary growing boy of 
fourteen, with thick hair of dull brown, pleasant 
freckled face, and twinkling gray eyes. 

Monica was a frail little creature of eleven, with 
silver-blond hair, wistful blue eyes, and pale, thin 
face. A pathetic little hunchback was Monica, 
patient, gentle, and uncomplaining; spending many 
sleepless nights in pain, but smiling with tear-filled 
eyes and insisting that she felt “ just a little tired, 
and you go to bed, Nancy. I’ll be all right in the 
morning, but please pray that morning will come 
very soon! ” 

Oonah Kelly, the faithful old Irish servant, often 
declared in a husky whisper, after she had crooned 
and rocked the suffering child to sleep in her great 
strong arms: 

Shure there’s miny a saint in Hivin that’d be 
losin’ his halo iv he had to pass an ixamination in 
swate, sufferin’ patience wid our Monica! ” 



54 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


Oonah had. an explosive temper. When work 
piled up alarmingly, or the kitchen stove balked, or 
the clothes-line weighed down with the week’s wash¬ 
ing broke, she could give a good imitation of Mount 
Vesuvius in action; but if Monica were near the 
whole world might turn askew and not a rough 
word would escape from the Irishwoman’s lips. 

Och! Nancy, me darlint, I couldn’t let a cuss 
fall out av me mouth wid that angel-child to hear 
me, though me tongue’s fairly swellin’ wid strong 
langwidge. Accordianly, I just think me swears 
an’ cross mesilf. Howandiver, I send her away wid 
a lyin’ excuse whin I get desprit; and then, wid the 
help o’ God, I cuss till I’m cross-eyed. It’s miny a 
pinance I’d be doin’ iv I wint to confession which, 
saints be praised! I don’t. 

Some wan’s always playin’ tricks wid the 
worruld, an’ it’s hard tellin’ iv it’s the Lorrud or 
the divil himsilf. Whin the Lorrud planted that ^ 
tree av knowlidge in the Garden av Aden it was a 
trick; an’ iv y’ask me. I’ll say it was done wid a 
mane intintion. An’ the divil followed the Lorrud’s 
ixample by givin’ Adam an’ Ave a taste for the 
fruit. ^A divil a chanct did they have, poor sowls! 
Since thin, loife has been just wan trick afther 
another: so what’s a cuss here an’ there whin the 
worruld is just a bag av tricks 

Oonah Kelly had lived with the Graysons ever 



55 


The House of Misrule 

since Nancy^s birth, in spite of the hard work and 
irregularly paid wages. She was devoted to the 
children and had worshipped their mother, a saint 
on earth iv iver there was wan! ’’ 

Mrs. Grayson had died with a vision of Heaven 
in her eyes and a faint smile on her lips, knowing 
that the faithful Irishwoman would stand by the 
motherless children, whose handsome father, with 
his selfish, irresponsible gaiety, had allowed all the 
cares of the household to rest upon his wife’s frail 
shoulders. 

His heart, iv he has wan, is signed wid the 
divil’s monnygram, like the Chinese laundry marks 
on the tails av his shirrut, there’s divil a doubt av 
that! ” Oonah often declared to herself. An’ iv I 
c’d baste his handsome mug wid me broomstick it’s 
niver a blarneyin’ smile that’d light up his face 
agin, bad cess to him,—God forgive me for sayin’ 
it!” 

Handsome Hal Grayson ” spent most of his 
time in New York, where he was a popular club¬ 
man and a welcome guest in wealthy homes. He 
was a witty raconteur, a graceful dancer, and an 
ardent as well as successful devotee of society 
bridge-tables. A spicy, blackmailing column in 
The Glass of Fashion, a weekly magazine dedicated 
to the doings of society, was, according to whis¬ 
pered rumor, edited by Handsome Hal. The para- 



56 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


graphs under the heading, On Dit/’ were eagerly 
read. They were so cleverly worded that the iden¬ 
tity of the victims of the delicately-veiled innuen¬ 
does was readily detected; but the publishers of the 
magazine escaped actions for libel because of the 
half-truths which underlay On Difs scurrilous 
flippancies. 

Many an exclusive hostess, whose private cup¬ 
board had its topmost shelf filled with dry bones 
of secret scandal, feared Hal Grayson, knowing 
that he could, and would gather up the loose bones, 
articulate them, and produce a full-sized family 
skeleton for the public to gloat over, if they over¬ 
looked his name in sending out their invitations. 
Consequently, his life was filled with trips to Palm 
Beach in the winter, lengthy visits to Newport and 
Bar Harbor in the summer, cruises with yacht¬ 
owning friends, and numerous Long Island house- 
parties. 

He seldom visited his home, and it was not a 
desire to see his children that brought him to Cass- 
burn. When his phenomenal luck at bridge failed 
him, as it occasionally did, his income depended on 
the sale of a family treasure. The old, neglected 
house had been gradually denuded of its portraits, 
tapestries, porcelains, and antique furniture, to 
satisfy Handsome HaPs craving for an idle, care¬ 
free existence. 



The House of Misrule 57 

His cliildreii dreaded tlie visits of their inter¬ 
mittent father,’’ as Harry called him. Ill-luck at 
cards made him irritable, and when he was at home 
he made no effort to conceal the inherent selfish¬ 
ness and tyranny of his nature. The charming 
manners and fascinating gaiety which had estab¬ 
lished his popularity in New York were unknown 
to his family. 

During meals he read his newspaper, and if he 
deigned to speak it was only to sneer at their 
silence or their timid efforts at conversation; to 
grumble about the food, or to rebuke Nancy for the 
table solecisms of the twins, who were awed into 
frightened silence by his presence and seemed more 
awkward than usual in handling their knives and 
forks. 

At the end of each meal the younger children 
always scampered away. Joan, with an armful of 
books, Avould disappear, going up to the attic or 
climbing an old apple-tree at the end of the garden. 
Flip and Flop would give way to their pent-up feel¬ 
ings with a wild whoop of joy when they reached 
the street, and then hurry off in search of new mis¬ 
chief to scandalize the villagers. Sensitive little 
Monica, who had once overheard her father make 
a heartless remark about her misshapen shoulders, 
would seek refuge and comfort in Oonah’s kitchen. 
Harry, with a sturdy loyalty to Nancy, always re- 



58 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


mained to share their father’s abuse and assist in 
crating a valuable portrait or a piece of rare Chi¬ 
nese porcelain. 

There was a general family rejoicing when Mr. 
Grayson departed for the station in Jim Deane’s 
old Ford which was known as the Peace Ship, and 
which met the two daily trains for the purpose of 
conveying the mails to and from the village. Flip 
and Flop would turn somersaults, Harry and Joan 
would cheer lustily, and Monica would cling to 
Nancy, murmuring: 

Oh, I’m so glad we are alone again! ” 

As for Oonah, she would whack the kitchen table 
with her rolling-pin, or wave a dripping dishcloth 
in the air, and give vent to language so violent and 
sulphurous that Harry called it poison gas.” 

My sowl to glory! ” exclaimed Oonah, when 
Nancy once remonstrated with her over her habit 
of swearing, It would puzzle a saint to live in 
this house widout the consolation av cussin’ wance 
in a while. There’s nothin’ loike a good, hearty 
cuss for airin’ the lungs an’ relavin’ the moind; an’ 
I’ll take all the quinsequences av me cussin’ whin 
the toime comes. Whin the Lorrud made the Irish, 
He filled their sowls wid the divil’s gunpowder. He 
did that! So it’s not to be ixpicted that the Irish’ll 
ixplode only wance a year, loike a Fourth av July 
cilibration. An’ the short length av it is that whin 



The House of Misrule 


59 


I cuss, it’s wid tlie good intintion av purifyin’ me 
sowl an’ gittin’ rid av the divil’s gunpowder. Whin 
me sowl goes to glory the divil’ll be wishin’ I’d 
niver opened me mouth wid a cuss-worrud.” 

When Mr. Grayson’s negotiations with a New 
York art dealer were concluded, a check for house¬ 
hold expenses would come to Nancy. Later on, an 
express parcel would arrive, charges collect, con¬ 
taining presents for the children. In this way 
Handsome Hal acquitted himself of all responsi¬ 
bility concerning his family, tiresome little beg¬ 
gars,” as they were catalogued in his mind. 

There would be expensive toys for the twins who 
needed shoes; some dainty trifle of adornment for 
Joan who scorned such feminine fripperies and 
longed for recently-published books; ties, kid 
gloves, and silken hose for Harry whose trousers 
Nancy had patched so often that he trembled to 
lean over and reveal the region of his anatomy 
which was mercifully concealed when he stood 
erect; a gorgeous, befrilled doll for Monica who had 
a bureau drawer filled with belles of dolldom which 
her father had sent her at various times, and who 
needed warmer clothing than what she was wear¬ 
ing; and lacy lingerie or a bit of jewelry for Nancy 
whose dresses were faded and threadbare. 

The opening of Mr. Grayson’s parcel and the dis¬ 
tribution of the contents always brought forth ex- 



60 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


clamations of disappointment, a chorus of disgust 
beginning with Aw shucks! from Joan and end¬ 
ing with Another doll, oh dear! plaintively 
uttered by Monica. 

Nancy’s efforts to mother her brothers and sis¬ 
ters and keep them in order, so that the gossiping 
villagers might have less to say about the good-for- 
nothing Graysons, were futile. Harry and Joan 
did as they pleased in their happy-go-lucky way, in 
spite of her anxious protests. They had a blithe 
indifference for Old Vox Pop,” as they called 
public opinion of Cassburn, which was shared by 
Flip and Flop whose mischievous pranks did much 
to tarnish the family’s reputation. Occasionally 
Oonah read the riot act when a fresh outbreak of 
mischief set the village chattering; but the Gray¬ 
son home was, as Nancy often despairingly de¬ 
clared, The House of Msrule! ” 


« 


V 



CHAPTER V 


THE ANGELIC IMPS 

The ticking of the clock, the crackling of the 
flames, and the occasional rnstling of Joan’s maga¬ 
zines were the only sounds within the living-room, 
which seemed to he wrapped in a dull, drowsy 
peace undisturbed by the wind and the rain out¬ 
side. 

i^ancy sat frowning over her mending, Joan was 
literally buried in the magazines, Harry was ab¬ 
sorbed in his painting, and Monica repressed her 
sighs of weariness as she sat erectly still with her 
chin tilted at the proper angle. 

Gusts of wind battered the windows with loos¬ 
ened strands of Virginia creeper, and slanting rain¬ 
drops beat a ceaseless tattoo on all the panes. 

Oonah entered the room with a log which she 
dropped into the grate, scattering ashes and sparks. 

Nancy glanced up anxiously. I wonder wheT*e 
Flip and Flop can be in this awful storm! Did 
they tell you where they were going, Oonah? ” 

^^Niver a worrud did they say, but rushed ofl 
in a murderin’ hurry before their breakfasts had 
toime to reach their stomachs. They’re snug an’ 
warrum somewheres, you may kiss the Book on 

61 


62 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


that; tellin’ all the family history an’ sacrets, for 
folks to twist into scandal. The saints forbid that 
they’re housin’ wid that LoueUa Greer! It’s puttin’ 
butter on bacon to tell you, for you know it alriddy, 
but that woman has the manest, longest, an’ 
sharpest tongue that iver wagged in a mouth since 
Adam was a boy, an’ that’s a long toime since. 
Whin the Lorrud made Louella Greer He played a 
trick wid the worruld that the divil himsilf’d be 
proud av, I’m tollin’ yuh that. God bliss the day! 
I niver saw such a rain. The ocean must have 
changed places wid the sky, an’ it’s all cornin’ down 
to wanct! ” Oonah left the room with a noisy bang 
of the door. 

Don’t worry, iNancy,” said Harry; those little 
imps can be safely trusted to look after themselves, 
never fear.” 

Joan had risen from the floor and was pulling 
down an avalanche of magazines, with a shower 
of loose pages, from a high shelf. 

They are probably tramping about in the rain, 
wading through puddles and wallowing in mud,” 
she observed, as she wiped her dusty hands on her 
middy. It’s just the sort of lark they’d enjoy. 
They’ll come home drenched to the skin, and to¬ 
morrow we’ll have two pneumonia patients in the 
house. Then there’ll be big doctor’s bills and 
funerals and,—things,” she finished lugubriously. 



The Angelic I mgs 


63 


Just listen to the wailing banshee! scoffed 
Harry. You’re a croaking raven, Joan, as cheer¬ 
ful as Mrs. Gummidge. Boil your head or go into 
a trance.” 

Joan shrugged her shoulders awkwardly as she 
settled down among the magazines. 

I may be a croaking raven, but I know we’re 
going to have trouble in the family; sickness or 
death or perhaps a murder. Last night I dreamed 
that I was lying in my coffin, and-” 

Aw! swallow your tongue! ” interrupted Harry. 

There, Monica, me darlint, the job’s done! ” he 
held up the picture very carefully. I’m sorry I 
kept you sitting so long, but I wanted to finish it 
to-day. I hope I haven’t tired you too much.” 

Monica stood up, pressing her fingers on the back 
of her neck. I’m not tired really, but my neck is 
stiff and achey. Oh! am I really like that? How 
nice! ” 

I’ll leave it here to dry,” he laid the sketch on 
the table, and to-morrow you shall give it to dear 
old Oonah for a birthday present.” 

Oh, Harry! may I?” her eyes sparkled with 
excitement, and a faint fiush tinted her delicate 
face. Oonah will be so glad to have it, because 
it will remind her of how kind she is to me and 
how much I love her.” 

Nancy made room for her in the great armchair. 




64 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


and the child nestled cosily with her head resting 
on her sister’s shoulder. 

^^Yon have so much to do, iNancy,” she mur¬ 
mured, I wish you’d teach me to darn stockings, 
then I could help you. I never seem to do any¬ 
thing useful.” 

You help me by being ,—just you/^ ^Nancy 
squeezed her affectionately. 

A rapid, noisy rustling of leaves made Nancy 
turn to Joan. 

« 

You’ll strain your eyes if you read in that dark 
corner, Joan. Do go over to a window! And 
please stop sucking your thumb I Your hands must 
be filthy with the dust of those old magazines.” 

^^Aw! don’t be so stuffy, Nance! I can see all 
right over here, and I like the taste of dust. Let 
me alone! ” Joan sucked her thumb audibly in de¬ 
fiance of her sister’s behest. 

Here come the angelic imps! ” cried Harry 
from one of the front windows. ^^Gee! they’re a 
funny sight! They’re both tied together in one 
coat! ” 

The girls joined him and watched the twins come 
splashing through the puddles from the gate. They 
were enswathed in a long, yellow oilskin coat which 
was held up in stiff, billowy folds by a piece of 
clothes-line, twined about them and holding them 
together. As they wobbled along under a large 



The Angelic Imps 65 

brown cotton umbrella, they resembled a huge 
mushroom. 

Nancy hurried to the front door and led the chil¬ 
dren to the living-room, where she hastily unwound 
the rope and divested them of the dripping coat. 

^^We^re just wet in the feeV^ announced Flip, 

^cause we got to Solomon Simpson^s when it 
started to rain, and we^"e been there ever since. So 
we haven^t a damp thing on us.” 

^^And he tied us together in his rubber coat so 
that we could come home in the rain, ’cause he 
thought you might be worrying about us,” added 
Flop. 

The twins sat on the rug before the fire and began 
to take off their shoes and stockings as they pro¬ 
ceeded to relate their adventures. 

^^We had dinner with Solomon Simpson,” said 
Flip. 

Hamandeggs,” explained Flop. 

And he showed us his books and told us stories 
about the pictures in them,” continued Flip. 

Flop leaned back with her arms propping her 
small body and held out her feet towards the fire, 
resting her heels on the brass fender. 

Ooh! we had a spiffy time! ” she sighed bliss¬ 
fully, curling her pink toes. 

^^But where were you all morning?” questioned 
Nancy. 



66 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


The twins looked at each other dubiously. 

It^s a secret, a deadly secret,’^ said Flip mys¬ 
teriously. 

Yes,” agreed Flop, “ it^s a sacred word of honor 
secret ’tween us two, and we’ve promised not to 
tell; and it’s a wicked, bad sin to break a promise. 
But I sort of want to tell ’cause it was e’citing 
what we did, and a secret makes me feel squidgy 
inside. We made an ad-adventure.” 

Let’s tell! ” chuckled Flip. 

But Nancy’s got to cross her heart and promise 
not to object and scold when she knows! ” declared 
Flop. 

Go ahead, Nance, cross your heart,” urged 
Harry. As Nancy complied, he continued, ^^Now, 
spill the beans, kids. I’m all ears.” 

“First, we broke our savings bank ’cause we 
wanted to buy a birthday present for Oonah,” be¬ 
gan Flip. 

“ Not so bad,” said Harry. 

“ Then,”—^the little lad looked warily at Nancy, 
we went over to Bradbury to get it! ” 

“ Now, you promised not to object, Nancy! ” 
cried Flop, observing Nancy’s frown, for the trip 
to Bradbury was breaking bounds. “ We got a beau¬ 
tiful pitcher, but on the way home Flip broke it, 
so we took it to Solomon Simpson to be mended, 
and we’re going over to-morrow morning to get it 



The 'Angelic Imps 67 

when it^ll be dry and stuck together so’s the break 
won^t show.’’ 

We just had to be disobeejinet and go to Brad¬ 
bury,” Flip continued, but it wasn’t a wicked dis- 
obeejinence ’cause we went to buy the pitcher and 
it was a Holy Bible one,—Rebecca at the well. 
The holding part of the pitcher is the well and the 
handle is Rebecca, only I dropped it and Rebecca 
broke herself off.” 

Nancy, with a despairing shake of her head, se¬ 
lected two pairs of mended stockings and gave them 
to the twins. To remonstrate with them over the 
trip to Bradbury would be useless, for they would 
cry shame upon her if she repudiated her cross- 
my-heart” vow and ventured one word of disap¬ 
proval. They had confessed their disobeejinence ” 
so there was nothing more to be said. 

Flip and Flop were honorable little souls, stick¬ 
lers for observing promises, and rigid truth-tellers; 
but for wayward, original mischief they were, as 
Oonah frequently declared, “ the divil’s own.” 

They were lovely children, nearing their eighth 
birthday. Even Miss Louella had to grudgingly 
admit that they were beautiful. 

Those twins, with their curly hair like golden 
halos an’ their blue eyes like saints sayin’ prayers, 
look like as if they were angels smellin’ lilies on 
Easter cards, which they ain’t,” she said once to 



68 " The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


Mrs. Talbot who, having buried her dreams of 
motherhood in two little graves, had a warm tender¬ 
ness in her heart for all children. 

^^An’ their sweet, innocent faces,’’ continued 
Miss Louella, are nothin’ but a wile o’ Satan to 
deceive folks that are rightfully suspicious. As the 
Holy Writ says, an’ it certainly holds good with 
those twins, beauty is a whited sepulchre that’s 
only skin deep, an’ it covereth a multitude o’ sins, 
for it’s filled with bones of iniquity.” 



CHAPTER VI 


NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBORS 

The storm increased as the afternoon wore on. 
Flip and Flop were crouched on a wide window- 
seat, exhaling vigorously and making little breath- 
clouds on the rain-splashed pane on which they 
tried to write their names with the tips of their 
tongues. 

Oh say! ’’ Flip nearly fell off the seat in his 
excitement, Jim Deane^s Peace Ship is stopping 
at the Thorold gate and some people are getting out 
’cause they can’t make the gates open wide. There’s 
a lame, stoopy man wrapped in a rug, with a green 
awning shade over his eyes, and a big dog, and 
two, no threey real live Japaneezers! ” 

Flop drew in her tongue and flattened her nose 
against the pane. 

^^And there’s a wagon coming down the road 
with mountains of trunks and big boxes! ” she 
cried. 

iNancy, with the others, rushed to the window. 

The Thorolds have come back! ’’ she exclaimed. 
^^At least that must be old Mr. Thorold. How 
strange that he should return in this way without 
any preparation! I can remember when the family 

69 


70 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


used to come liere every summer. There would 
always be an army of servants sent in advance to 
get the place ready. And now, that poor old man 
has come back alone after all these years! What 
an awful day for a home-coming! 

He must be terribly old. See how he leans on 
his cane, and he can scarcely walk,^’ said Monica. 

And there^s no one in that big, damp, dusty house 
to welcome him. Poor old man I I wish we could 
invite him here to supper. We ought to, because 
we’re his only next-door neighbors.” 

The good-for-nothing Graysons invite the rich 
Mr. Thorold to supper?” laughed Harry. ^‘That 
would be a stunt; a sort of hidalgo’s dinner,—little 
meat and a great deal of table-cloth! What should 
we give him to eat? Oatmeal porridge, or our old 
standby,—^boiled rice? ” 

The Japaneezers would like rice,” said Flip. 

Let’s ’vite them all over! ” 

Oonah’s making raisin buns, I can smell them 
baking,” cried Monica eagerly. I think we ought 
to forget that he’s so rich and we’re poor, and be 
friendly neighbors on a day like this, don’t you, 
iNancy? ” 

Family,—I’ve an idea!” ITancy’s eyes flashed 
and her cheeks glowed. 

An idea ? ” Harry registered mock amazement. 
'' What? ” 



Next-T>oor Neighbors 


71 


« Pm going over to the Thorold place with some 
hot buttered buns and father’s little alcohol stove, 
—^there are two tins of canned heat left; and I’ll 
make a cup of tea for that poor old man right 
away.” 

You wouldn’t dare! ” gasped Joan. 

Oh, do go, Nancy! ” Monica clapped her hands. 

I dare you to! ” added Harry. 

In a short time Nancy was ready, clad in Oonah’s 
plaid coat, which was known as The Ark because 
of its antiquity and its use by Nancy and Joan as 
their refuge in stormy weather. A slouchy water¬ 
proof hat was pulled down over her curls, and her 
feet were encased in Joan’s rubbers. They were 
too large, but Nancy had none of her own. She 
carried an old basket covered with a piece of blue 
and white oilcloth borrowed from one of the kitchen 
shelves. 

“ Wish me luck! ” she laughed merrily, although 
she was beginning to have qualms of shyness. 

^ I’m as valiant as a wrathful dove or most mag¬ 
nanimous mouse.’ ” 

You’ll never do it. I know you’ll turn back 
when you reach the door,” declared Joan. 

Go to it, old girl,” urged Harry. You’re in 
for grief or glory. We’ll probably see the Japs 
chasing you out of the gate and hurling the buns 
at your head.” 



72 "" The Good‘for-Nothing Graysons'' 


^N^ancy splashed along the path, occasionally 
stooping to adjust her loose rubbers which the mud 
sucked from her feet. She turned at the gate and 
waved to her family whose excited faces were fill¬ 
ing the window, and presently they saw her disap¬ 
pear through the lilacs that embowered the gates 
of Cedarwold. 

A smiling Japanese answered her ring and found 
her blushing nervously in her struggle to overcome 
a desire to take to her heels and run. 

I’ve come—er—I thought that Mr. Thorold 
might like a bun,—er—some hot cups and a bun of 
tea,” she stammered. 

Much obliged! Come inslide. Mlister Torrold 
some slick bloss, velly slick, and stoves no glood. 
Fires not burn. Come inslide.” 

He ushered her into a damp, gloomy room where 
the furniture, pictures, and chandeliers were en¬ 
shrouded in dusty linen coverings. A dismal fire 
was burning half-heartedly in the grate, the logs 
oozing moisture and emitting puffs of rank, sting¬ 
ing smoke. 

Mr. Thorold, wrapped in a tartan rug, was 
seated in a deep armchair near the fire, holding out 
his shivering hands. Nancy’s heart was thrilled 
with pity for the old man, and her shyness left her 
as she hurried forAvard into the room. 

I’m Nancy Grayson and I live next door. 





Next-Door Neighbors 


73 


Please don’t get up! ” as lie made an obviously 
painful effort to rise. I’ve brought some hot buns 
and an alcohol stove, and I’m going to make you a 
cup of tea. We knew your house would be damp 
and cold, and fires never burn without a lot of 
coaxing on a day like this.” 

^^You are very kind to welcome a wanderer in 
this way. Did the fairies tell you that I was long¬ 
ing for a cup of tea? ” 

The voice startled !Nancy. She had expected to 
hear the quavering tones of weak old age; but this, 
—it couldnH be old Mr. Thor old! The voice was 
rich, vibrant, youthful! The face, partly hidden by 
the green shade, was young, bronzed with exposure 
and pallid with suffering. A hint of a black mus¬ 
tache shadowed the upper lip, as though a finger 
dipped in tar had been drawn across it. 

^^Oh!” she faltered. ^^We thought, when we 
saw you arrive, that you were old Mr. Thorold who 
used to live here; that you were a weak old man! ” 
I am Mr. Thorold’s son Dick; but I’m hungry 
and cold, and I feel old and weak. My Japs are 

having difficulty with the fires, and-” 

Then I’ll make you a cup of tea at once! ” she 
cried, tossing her hat and coat onto a chair and 
slipping off her rubbers. 

She poked the sulky log in the grate until it 
blazed up with a cheery glow. Noki filled the little 




74 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


d 


kettle, when she unpacked her basket. The tea-pot 
and covered plate of buns were placed on the 
hearth, and she lighted the alcohol stove. 

Dick Thorold raised his green shade for a brief 
glance at the girl, as her hands hovered over the 
table in setting out the things. 

I remember you now! ” he exclaimed boyishly. 
^^You used to be the little red—er—bn^/it-haired 
girl in the garden next door! ” 

Be truthful and stick to red,” laughed Nancy. 
^^My hair was a horrible, fiery red in those days. 
It isn’t so bad now, but I’m used to my family’s 
teasing about it. I remember you,—a great, tall 
boy in white flannels playing tennis. I often threw 
the balls back to you when they came flying over 
the hedge; and once you filled my hat with crimson 
cherries and said that they matched my hair.” 

Dick joined her in a merry laugh, but his ended 
abruptly in a strangling cough which shook his 
gaunt frame and made Nancy want to pat him on 
the back, as though he were a choking baby. 

Sugar? Cream? ” she inquired with a pitying 
glance as he sank back in his chair, limp and gasp¬ 
ing. 

B-b-both, please.” 

He drank his tea with evident enjoyment and 
took the second bun she handed him without any 
hesitation. 



Neoct-Door Neighbors 


75 


I can^t begin to tell you wbat a godsend this 
visit of yours is/’ be began. I was sitting bere in 
tbis dreary room, listening to tbe storm and wish¬ 
ing myself back in tbe nursing-bome in England 
that I left so gladly a short time ago. I didn’t in¬ 
tend to come to Cassburn so soon; but when I 
landed in Kew York tbe other day, I felt impelled 
to get home at once. Day before yesterday I star¬ 
tled bToki by telling him to engage a cook and 
assistant and get ready to leave tbe city imme¬ 
diately. It was a foolish impulse. I should have 
waited until tbe place was made more habitable; 
but I bad a wild, unreasonable longing to get bere 
in time to see—^wbite violets. I dreamt about them 
last week, and as soon as my feet touched Ameri¬ 
can soil I simply had to make tbe dream come true. 
Tell me, do white violets still grow in tbe moss 
under tbe cedar at tbe turn of tbe road? ” 

Yes, we gather them every spring. You have 
come back in time for them.” She reached for bis 
empty cup and refilled it. I wish you bad re¬ 
turned a day or two sooner. Tbe weather has been 
glorious all month until to-day.” 

But bad I arrived on a bright, sunny day you 
wouldn’t have called to welcome me with tea and 
hot buns. I’ll have another, please. My third,—or 
is it my fourth? They are scrumptious! ” 

She laughed and passed the plate to him. 




76 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


My fatlier, wliom you expected to see, died over 
five years ago. We were together in England, and 
I intended to come back to America immediately 
after Ms death. But the War broke out and I went 
over to France with the Tommies,—God bless ’em! 
It was a glorious chance for me to straighten out 
the tangle I had made of my life. Of course, you 
have heard stories of my wild youth? ” he turned 
to her with a quizzical smile. 

She nodded and chuckled. Yes, I have been 
told that an ill-directed stone from your catapult 
broke Saint John’s nose in one of the stained-glass 
windows of the church. Jim Deane repaired the 
wounded saint, but, unfortunately, he used a piece 
of red glass he happened to have, and now the 
Beloved Disciple has a ruby-tinted nose which gives 
him the appearance of a wine-bibber. 

‘^Another time you sneaked into Miss Louella’s 
house and nailed a fish under the top of her parlor 
table. It wasn’t discovered for several days and 
it gave the place a ^ very ancient and fishlike smell.’ 
Poor Miss Louella was distracted. She had Tom 
Willis take up the parlor floor, thinking there 
might be something dead and decaying under the 
boards. Of course, nothing was found there; but 
when Tom was carrying the table back to the room, 
he tipped it and then your crime was discovered. 
You see, it is difficult to live down one’s youthful 




Next-Door Neighbors 


77 


follies in a place like Cassburn, especially when 
one’s evil deeds are written in tbe brass of Miss 
Lonella’s memory.” 

Louella Greer! ” be exclaimed. Is that 
vinegar-veined old vestal still living? How well I 
remember ber! Is sbe still running tbe post-ofOice 
and tbe Day of Judgment? And does sbe still 
speak with authority on tbe views of tbe Almighty? 
Ob lor’! ” 

Nancy gave an affirmative nod, and a chuckling 
laugh rippled from ber lips. Yes, she’s still ^ on 
tbe job,’ quoting the Holy Writ and mixing texts 
with every-day aphorisms. Her quotations are an 
abiding joy.” 

And Solomon Simpson,—dear old soul! I hope 
be hasn’t gone to bis reward.” 

‘^No, Solomon is still mending our shoes and 
reading bis beloved Shakespeare. His sign-board 
is worth seeing. He painted it three years ago, 
after reading Julius Caesar. Imagine one long 
capital S serving as tbe initial letter of all tbe 
nouns:—Solomon Simpson, Surgeon to old Shoes. 
But it has to be seen to be appreciated. Most of 
tbe prominent Cassburnites of your day are still 
here, and there are only a few newcomers. The 
Leavitts are tbe latest arrivals. They came from 
Boston last year. Mr. Leavitt is a sort of Pooh- 
Bah. He’s a lawyer, banker, real estate dealer, life 




78 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


and fire insurance agent, and Sunday-scliool super¬ 
intendent. He is also a personally conducted hus¬ 
band, so he is always spoken of as ^ Mrs. Leavitt’s 
husband.’ ” 

''Ah! What is she like?” 

" She’s a very superior person, thoroughly con¬ 
vinced of her own importance in the universe. She 
likes to display her knowledge by using long words, 
and when she speaks of diseases she always em¬ 
ploys technical terms, like ' idiopathic parotitis ’ 
and ' urticaria,’ which are our old childhood 
enemies in fancy dress,—mumps and hives.” 

"How does she hit it off with Miss Louella? 
Don’t they clash?” 

" Miss Louella is somewhat awed by Mrs. Leav¬ 
itt’s weighty diction and condescending manner, 
and regards her with a dumb wonderment, as 
though she were a double-tailed dog or a triple- 
headed cat. Mrs. Leavitt, by the way, is a Theos- 
ophist and goes in for esoterics. She claims that 
her soul-vision is so highly developed that she can 
visualize our auras and see the colors of our moods. 
Shall I make you some fresh tea? ” 

" No, thanks,—^but don’t go yet! ” he pleaded, as 
she rose to pack the tea outfit in her basket. " You 
have brought so much cheer into this wilderness of 
dust and gloom. It is interesting to hear about the 
villagers after my years of absence. I am going 



Next-Door Neighbors 


79 


to stay liere all summer,—to loaf and get my mind 
and body in tune. Tell me about yourself, your 
family. ^ Sisters and brothers, little maid, how 
many may there be? ^ 

^ How many? seven in all, she said,’ ” finished 
Nancy. That includes dear old Oonah Kelly^ 
who scolds and loves us and tries to keep us going. 
I’m the eldest of the family. Joan is next. She’s 
clever and queer, so she’ll probably become famous. 
Harry is going to be an artist. He has great talent 
for drawing and painting, and I hope he will have 
a chance to study art some day. Monica is a dar¬ 
ling little dreamer, full of quaint fancies that, I 
think, will blossom into poems when she is older. 
She has a marvelous memory and knows miles of 
poetry by heart. Our family ended with twins, and 
they are a pair of pickles. They are sure to go 
through life with a hum and a buzz and turn the 
world dizzy.” 

^^And you?” questioned Dick. ^^What are you 
going to do? ” 

Oh, I’m just an ordinary, half-educated girl. 
The fairies who attended my christening didn’t be¬ 
stow any talents on me as they did on the others, 
so I shall probably be an old maid teacher of an 
infants’ Sunday-school class. Perhaps, in time, I 
may qualify as Miss Louella’s successor and become 
the leader of the village gossips.” 



80 "" The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 

Heaven forbid! ’’ cried Dick. 

Ob! it bas actually stopped raining! ” Nancy 
crossed to one of tbe windows and drew aside tbe 
dusty curtains. 

Dick rose with painful difficulty and hobbled 
with tbe aid of bis cane to ber side. 

See, tbere^s a rainbow to welcome you! ” sbe 
exclaimed. A glorious ending to tbis gloomy day, 
—a lucky omen, isn’t it? ” 

He looked down at ber eager, bappy face. Will 
you let tbe rainbow be a sign, a covenant of our 
friendship. Miss Nancy? Let us be friends, as well 
as next-door neighbors.” 

I’d love to be friends, but-” Sbe hesitated, 

and a flush of embarrassment crept over ber face. 
^^You see, we’re known as ^the good-for-nothing 
Graysons,’ and nearly every one disapproves of us. 
We’re not desirable neighbors, as you’ll find out 
before you have been here very long. Our friend¬ 
ship isn’t worth having; really it isn’t.” 

In tbe old days I was ‘ good-for-nothing Dick 
Tborold.’ So we are quits in that respect. And 
now, I’m a battered, useless bit of humanity, lonely 
and friendless; so, let us form a little society of 
^good-for-nothings!’ Come, promise before tbe 
rainbow fades.” He held out bis band, so white and 
thin with suffering that it was more eloquent than 
his words. 




Next-Door Neighbors 


81 


i^ancy grasped it in both of hers. Her eyes were 
softened with a hint of tears and her lips curved 
with a tender smile of sympathy. 

I promise/’ she said shyly. 

And you’ll come again soon,—^to-morrow? ” he 
urged. And bring the others with you. I want 
to know them all. Let us hold a general meeting 
of our society to-morrow.” 

But they’ll bother you to death with questions 
about the War,” she objected. “ The twins will be 
sure to ask about all sorts of ghastly details; and 
you won’t want to talk War. You must have suf¬ 
fered so horribly! ” 

It will be a good way to get my hideous mem¬ 
ories talked out of my system,” he declared. “ I 
have a feeling that the twins are going to do me 
good.” 

Very well, we’ll all come if you’ll agree to shoo 
us off as soon as you tire of us.” She enveloped her¬ 
self in the great coat, and pulled her hat down over 
her ears so that the brim turned back from the 
clustering curls on her forehead. 

^^Wait a moment, please. I want to introduce 
you to a pal of mine,—a real war hero.” 

He gave a shrill, clear whistle. There was a rush 
of padded feet along the hall, and a German police 
dog came bounding into the room, to fawn at Dick’s 
feet with whines of joy. 



82 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


^^Bobs, this is a friend.’’ Dick placed Nancy’s 
hand on the animal’s head. He’s a German dog, 
Miss Nancy, but he’s lived it down.” 

Bobs, after a short, friendly bark, licked her 
fingers. 

Is he a war dog? ” she asked. Where did you 
get him? ” 

I found him badly wounded among a heap of 
dead Huns in a German dugout. We were driven 
out, but I managed to get him over to the British 
lines and had him treated by one of our surgeons. 
He soon adopted me as a pal, and I called him after 
that great little Britisher,—Lord Eoberts. He is 
worthy of his name. He was mentioned in dis¬ 
patches several times, and decorated for bravery 
and distinguished service.” 

I am very proud to know him, and I hope we 
shall be friends, eh, Bobs?” She took the dog’s 
head between her hands and gazed into the limpid 
brown eyes. 

He accepts you without demur,” said Dick. 

Nancy hooked her arm through the handle of her 
basket and left with a promise to come again very 
soon and to bring the family. Dick remained at the 
window and watched her carefully pick her way 
along the muddy driveway. She was a grotesque 
little figure in the huge, clumsy coat and shapeless 
hat. 



NeM-Door Neighbors 


83 


The rain-drenched garden sparkled, birds flashed 
through the air, and a robin swooped down to the 
grass beneath the window. It looked up at Dick 
with a saucy tilt of its head and chirped gaily, 
seeming to say: 

Welcome home! Pm another next-door neigh¬ 


bor I ” 



CHAPTEE VII 


pane’s brother 

The people of Cassburn were gregarious and hos¬ 
pitable, and when they learned of Dick Thorold’s 
arrival they were eager to greet him in the whole¬ 
hearted, neighborly fashion that prevails in coun¬ 
try places. The fact that he was a returning sol¬ 
dier gave a zest to their welcome. Moreover, he 
was ill and alone, and the simple villagers were 
moved to pity over his dismal home-coming. 

The women let their memories drift back beyond 
his black-sheep days to the times when he had sat, 
dirty and disheveled after a runaway woodland 
outing with the village boys, on their back-doorsteps 
and crunched cookies or smacked his lips over a hot 
turnover. 

The men remembered him as an eager, question¬ 
ing lad, digging his toes ecstatically in the dirt 
with unwonted barefooted freedom, as he listened 
to their yarns. 

The Thorolds didn’t know how to manage that 
boy o’ theirs,” Jim Deane said to the men who were 
gathered, according to Saturday night custom, at 
Brackett’s store on the evening of Dick’s return. 

He was a great kid, he was, always ready for a 

84 


Pan's Brother 


85 


lark an^ never lettin’ our boys be blamed for Ms 
mischief; but owning up to everytMng with a steady 
look in bis eyes aM a fearless smile that made you 
‘end in pattin^ him on the head, when youM had the 
intention o^ lickiM the hide offen him.’’ 

“ That^s true,’’ agreed Sam Brackett, as he 
weighed Mrs. Neve’s pound of sugar and generously 
disregarded an overweight of two ounces. ^^With 
his proud lady mother an’ his father who was soft 
an’ easy one minute and over-strict and harsh the 
next, the lad hadn’t much chance to be other than 
he was,—a bit wild and foolish.” 

Solomon Simpson rose from the packing-case on 
which he was sitting. Neighbors, I move that we 
forget Dick’s family and their ways, and overlook 
his mistakes which were the results of his bring¬ 
ing-up, and give him a hearty welcome that’ll blot 
out the past. When all’s said and done, he’s one of 
our boys. He’s done his bit in the War, and now 
he’s come back to us, crippled and alone. So, let 
us give him a welcome that’ll make him feel that 
he belongs to us! ” 

Solomon’s motion was carried without a dissent¬ 
ing voice, and the erstwhile black sheep emerged 
from a bath of public opinion with whitewashed 
fleece that placed him in the same class with Mary’s 
little lamb. 

Several women were late for church the next 



86 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons '' 


morning. They had hurried to Cedarwold with 
contributions from their pantries: a pie, a cake, a 
pan of biscuits, fresh butter, cream, and eggs. As 
Mrs. Talbot observed, “ Folks movin’ into a house 
always need extra vittles; ” and she remained away 
from church to roast a chicken with all the savory 
trimmings of a home-cooked dinner, which her hus¬ 
band carried over, hot and steaming, for Dick’s 
midday meal. 

During the afternoon several men drifted in to 
talk with Dick and smoke his tobacco. They stayed 
on until the watchful !Noki, with his bland smiles 
and smooth tones, informed them that it was time 
to go. 

Long tlalk make bloss too much tired. Tlime 
for his day-sleep. Come aglain, much obliged.” 

On Monday morning Mrs. Neve, the village char¬ 
woman, began house-cleaning at Cedarwold. The 
doors and windows were opened wide to the sun- 
warmed air, and a brisk wind blew in from the sea, 
chasing the damp, musty odors from the rooms. 
Jerry West was put to work in the garden, which 
years of neglect had made a tangled wilderness. 

Jerry ain’t what you’d call a landscape gar¬ 
dener,” Jim Deane informed Dick on Sunday after¬ 
noon, “ but jes’ turn him loose in your garden an’ 
you won’t know the place a week from now. He 
has a wonderful way with growin’ things, has 



Pan's Brother 


87 


Jerry. He’s a sort o’ nature wizard. By heck! I 
b’lieve he could turn the Desert of Sahary into a 
Garden of Eden! ” 

I don’t remember him,” remarked Dick. 

Maybe not. You only come here in summer 
time, and Jerry was always wanderin’ off by him¬ 
self. He always kept away from strangers,” was 
Jim’s response, ^^but he’s a natural wonder, he is! 
He’s got a way with animals that jes’ passes under- 
standin’. He can cure the sick ones an’ tame the 
wild ones. I bet if he was put into a cage o’ roarin’ 
lions he’d have ’em cooin’ like doves in a few min¬ 
utes. 

Whenever I have a bad-tempered horse to shoe 
I jes’ natcherly send for Jerry, seein’ as how I don’t 
want my shop to be kicked to pieces an’ look as if 
a Zeppelin had passed by an’ dropped a bunch o’ 
forget-me-nots on it. An’ while I’m livin’ in hopes 
o’ goin’ to Heaven some day, if only to spite Louella 
Greer, I ain’t in such a hurry that I want to be 
kicked up there by a horse that has hell-fire in his 
eyes an’ the devil in his heels.” 

What does Jerry do? ” asked Dick. 

^^Do? Why, nothin’ much. He jes’ smiles like 
a baby an’ walks up to the cussed critter, strokes 
it an’ whinnies like he was a horse himself. Then 
the horse whinnies too and nozzles against Jerry’s 
shoulder; an’ I get busy with my hammer, an’ the 



88 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


shoe’s on before the animal knows I’ve drove a nail. 
Jerry’s a wonder! We call him Simple Jerry, but I 
sometimes think he’s the wisest man in the village. 

He seems to be deef at times, but I sorter feel 
it’s ’cause he doesn’t always want to hear; like his 
mind was too busy to be bothered listenin’ to what 
folks hev to say. Mostly he understands real well 
what is said to him, an’ if he is deef he’s a mighty 
good mind-reader! 

Of course, he’s dumb, which makes him seem 
stupid, maybe, but his eyes hev a look in them as 
if he had great thoughts; an’ I often wish he could 
speak for half an hour. I bet we’d hear something 
worth while.” 

Jerry’s utterance was limited to feeble, inarticu¬ 
late sounds and deep-toned, rumbling laughter; but 
he had a wonderful faculty for imitating birds and 
animals, and a magic power of attracting the furred 
and feathered creatures of forest and garden. At 
his summons squirrels, skunks, and rabbits would 
cluster about him and eat from his hand; and birds 
would flutter down and perch on his shoulders. 
Jim Deane often said it was a wonder .they didn’t 
build nests in his hair. 

Jerry’s story was a sad one, a sordid village trag¬ 
edy. His poor, frail mother, starved, neglected, 
and beaten by a brutal, drunken husband had 
died when Jerry came into the world too soon. 



Pan's Brother 


89 


Her bleeding, swollen lips tried to smile when her 
baby was placed beside her, and they uttered no 
word of what had happened before she had called 
to her neighbors for help in her extremity; but her 
bruised body and broken arm told a pitiful tale to 
the two women who closed her eyes and prepared 
her for burial. 

Mrs. Smellie went into the kitchen to give Bob 
West a liberal piece of her mind; but Bob, who had 
exhausted himself in his savage attack on his wife, 
lay on the floor in a drunken stupor, his left hand 
clutching a tangled tress of soft brown hair. 

Mrs. Smellie cared for the little motherless Jerry 
until a strange woman appeared at Bob West^s 
home, a slovenly creature who seldom showed her¬ 
self in the village. After three years the woman 
disappeared from Cassburn, but she was occasion¬ 
ally seen in Bradbury, the nearest town, in the com¬ 
pany of drunken sailors. 

One night, when Jerry was almost five years old, 
the Smellies were roused by sounds of screaming 
and swearing in the house next door. The noise 
suddenly subsided. Jerry, as they rightly supposed, 
had taken refuge in the barn. The child had the 
agility of a monkey in climbing to the rafters be¬ 
yond his father^s reach, and thus escaped many a 
brutal flogging. 

A little later the wakeful Smellies heard a man’s 



90 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


voice in agonized cries for help, mingled with a 
loud pounding and hammering. 

Bob’s havin’ the D. T.’s again an^ smashin’ up 
the furniture,” said Walter Smellie. But I guess 
the kid’s all right an’ safe in the barn, so I’ll let 
Bob fight his snakes by himself.” 

The next morning revealed a tragedy. Bob West 
had followed Jerry into the barn and had been 
kicked to death by his horse whose temper was as 
vicious as his own. The child, unharmed except for 
the bruises caused by his father’s beating, was sit¬ 
ting on the floor beside the battered body. His blue 
eyes blinked in the sunlight that poured into the 
gloomy barn when Walter Smellie opened the door. 
The great horse, whose hoofs were clotted with 
blood, was whinnying gently and rubbing its nose 
on the boy’s golden hair. 

Little Jerry was now alone in the world, but he 
was cared for by the women of the village, who took 
turns in mothering him. Being docile and healthy, 
he was no trouble, and he showed a dog-like affec¬ 
tion for all who were kind to him. 

When he was ten years old his uncanny kinship 
with nature proclaimed itself, and he would dis¬ 
appear into the woods for days at a time. He never 
cared to remain indoors. In summer, he would eat 
his meals under the trees and sleep under the stars. 
In winter, he would take the food given him to the 



Pavfs Brother 


91 


barn, and bis bed was a pile of bay. Tbe villagers 
wisely allowed bim to indulge in bis queer ways,’^ 
and placed no restraint on bim. 

“ There seems to be a prayin^ silence ^bout Jerry,*^ 
said Mrs. Talbot, ^^an^ be watches a sunset as if 
be was lookin^ right into heaven an’ smilin’ at tbe 
angels. He stands in tbe pourin’ rain with bis face 
turned up to tbe sky; an’ be bolds bis arms out 
when tbe wind is blowin’, lookin’ so happy that it 
seems like be was listenin’ to tbe voice o’ God! ” 

Jerry grew up to a sturdy manhood, gentle and 
tender as a woman, sweet and affectionate as a 
child. Tbe men provided bim with clothes which 
tbe kindly women took turns in washing and mend¬ 
ing. Every Monday morning Jerry would appear 
at a kitchen door with a bundle which was con¬ 
signed to tbe family wash-tub. Then be would chop 
and pile wood, dig and weed tbe garden, beat car¬ 
pets and clean windows: for Jerry was a grateful 
fellow, always anxious to do something in return 
for any kindness shown to bim. 

Louella Greer disapproved of Jerry, and be 
showed bis dislike for her in an obstinate refusal 
to accept anything from her bands, although be 
always complied with her orders when she wanted 
any chores done. 

That simple-minded Jerry gives me the creeps,” 
she said one day to Solomon Sunpson when she 



92 '' The Good-for- Nothing Graysons'' 

brought a pair of shoes to be resoled. He stares 
at me iu his silly way, like as if I wasn’t there at 
all. This morning he did some odd jobs for me, an’ 
when I took his dinner out to him he wouldn’t touch 
it, but shook his head, like as if it wasn’t good 
enough for him. He’s just a plain fool, I say.” 

That’s as you see it, Louella,” replied Solomon, 

but I’d call him ^ God’s fool.’ It seems to me as 
though God’s hands were resting on Jerry’s soul, to 
keep him like a child and to save him from becom¬ 
ing the sort of man his father was. He has the 
body of a strong man, but his soul is as sweet and 
innocent as a child’s. He has been given something 
that the rest of us have missed,—^nature’s wisdom; 
and that keeps* him very near to God, I think.” 

“ Well, man’s wisdom is good enough for me,” 
said Miss Louella, in a tone of satisfaction that im¬ 
plied her possession of a goodly share. “ An’ bein’ 
born a human, I’d rather talk an’ act like other 
humans than be different. As for God’s hand 
restin’ on Jerry’s soul, that’s just one of your 
poetry notions; an’ there’s nothin’ in the Holy Writ 
to prove it, that’s what.” 

• Solomon smiled and his eyes shone with a tender 
light. ^^You forget, Louella. Jesus said: ^Suffer 
little children to come unto Me, and forbid them 
not: for of such is the kingdom of God. And He 
took them up in His arms, put His hands upon them 



Pan's Brother 


93 


and blessed tbem.’ He also said, ^ Take heed that 
ye despise not one of these little ones.’ Jerry is one 
of God’s 'little ones,’ Louella.” 

You’re misusing the Holy Writ, Solomon, 
twistin’ it to fit your own ideas, which ain’t what 
the Bible was made for, I say.” With this emphatic 
remark. Miss Louella departed. 

All the children loved Jerry and never dreamed 
of teasing him. They laughed at his clumsy antics 
when he joined in their games, but he considered 
their laughter part of the fun, as indeed it was. 

There was a sweet comradeship between the gen¬ 
tle, childlike man and little Monica Grayson. -He 
was always bringing her gifts from the woods; rare 
wild flowers that the children were never able to 
find, lacy skeleton leaves, or a shining stone em¬ 
bossed with a delicate mosaic of silver-green lichen. 
In March he would scrape away the snow on a 
sunny hillside to find a few pale green blades of 
grass, and bring them to her as his first spring of¬ 
fering. He knew where to find the earliest pussy¬ 
willows, where the trailing arbutus bloomed in se¬ 
cret beauty under the dead leaves, and where the 
violet buds, too shy and timid to open, lurked in 
the shelter of an old oak’s twisted roots. 

He would mumble in his vague, inarticulate way, 
as though he were trying to tell her that these little 
gifts he brought her were messages from the woods, 



94 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


—glad tidings of tlie coming of spring, treading 
unsuspected on the heels of relentless winter. 

God gave Jerry a crooked mind and me a 
crooked body,’’ Monica explained to Oonah, so 
I am sure He intended us to be good friends.” 

My sowl to glory! I don’t see how you can love 
that great galumphin’ man, Monica darlint, an’ 
play wid him loike you do, trimmin’ his head wid 
a grapevine so that he looks loike the pickshure on 
the kiver o’ that wine cattylog your father left be¬ 
hind,—Batchus it was called; an’ sittin’ on his knee 
an’ lettin’ him carry you.” 

But you know, Oonah, my pain often goes away 
when Jerry holds me in his arms; or, at least, it 
doesn’t seem so hard to bear. He is so big and 
strong, and he seems able to give me some of his 
strength. When he looks at me his eyes haven’t 
pity in them like other people’s eyes. Pitying eyes 
hurt me,—^they make me remember my crooked 
shoulders. Jerry’s eyes are filled with love. And 
he always smells so nice and woodsy, like pine- 
needles and sweet fern and clean, damp earth. 
Jerry is really a very wonderful fairy person. He’s 
Pan’s brother.” 

Pan? Who the di—er,—^who’s he? ” 

^^Pan is a nature saint, the one that animals, 
trees, and flowers pray to; just the way you do to 
your church saints, Oonah.” 




Pan's Brother 


95 


“ May the divil fly,—I mane the saints presarve 
us! Shure, Monica, it’s nonsince you’re spakin’. 
Trees don’t pray, trees don’t talk.” 

Oh, yes, they do! They have a wonderful lan¬ 
guage all their own, which people are too stupid 
to understand. But God has taught Jerry to un¬ 
derstand and speak it. That is why he doesn’t trou¬ 
ble to talk the way we do, and people call him 
dumb. You believe in fairies, Oonah, so you ought 
to believe in Pan, the fairies’ god.” 

Shure I belave in fairies, Irish fairies I ” 

I remember your telling me about the fairy 
doctors in Ireland,—the people whom the fairies 
love and carry away and keep with them for seven 
years.” 

Shure I did, an’ there was divil a lie in that,— 
savin’ yer prisence! ” 

^^You said too, Oonah, that those whom the 
fairies love are not always carried away, but they 
become different from ordinary people, and grow 
silent and strange, and take to wandering about 
alone in fairy places; ^ gentle places ’ you called 
them. I love your Irish way of calling fairies 
gentle people. Jerry is different and ^ gentle.’ ” 
Shure, I niver thought av that! You’re a wise 
child, Monica darlint. Maybe it’s true, as you say, 
that the fairies have a claim on Jerry, Think av 
that now! ” 



CHAPTER VIII 


THE “ CHEER-UPPERS 

JSTancy^S announcement of Dick Tkorold^s wisk to 
meet ker family was received in various ways. 
Tkere was noisy jubilation from Flip and Flop, and 
sky deligkt from Monica, but Harry and Joan were 
scornfully indifferent. 

‘‘ And ke wants us all to go over to-morrow after¬ 
noon,^’ finisked Nancy. 

Deedle, deedle, deedle! ” sang tke twins in uni¬ 
son. 

Tke wkole gang? Not muck! ” said Harry. 
‘^We’d look like a delegation from an orpkan 
asylum, or a visiting committee of tke Ancient Or¬ 
der of Scarecrows. Count me out.” 

I’m not going, tkat’s flat! ” declared Joan. I 
kate meeting strangers, never know wkat to say, al¬ 
ways stammer and splutter, and I can’t speak tke 
trutk wken I try to be polite and proper. Social 
stunts aren’t in my line.” 

“ Or mine,” added Harry. “ And witk a crippled 
kost I skouldn’t know wkat to talk about; wketker 
to appear stupidly oblivious of kis damaged condi¬ 
tion, or to turn on tke weeps and pump up sym- 
patky. I’m not taking any, tkank you. I stay at 
kome.” 


96 


The '' Cheer-Uppers 


97 


Flip and Flop were reduced to tears and mourn¬ 
ful wails of expostulation on Sunday afternoon 
when Nancy decided to postpone their visit until 
the following day. 

There are so many men calling on Mr. Thor old 
to-.day/^ she said. “ He must be worn out with 
seeing all those people. We’ll go over to-morrow 
afternoon, instead.” 

' This was one of the rare occasions when Nancy’s 
determination withstood an onslaught of pleading 
from the twins. She usually surrendered when at- 
, tacked by vehement embraces, tearful kisses, and 
wheedling tones; but this time she was adamant. 

You’ll really and truly take us over to-mor¬ 
row? ” asked Flip, with a deep sigh of resignation. 

Eeally and truly, I will.” 

Is it a ^ cross your heart and hope to die if you 
don’t’ promise?” wailed Flop. 

And sacred word of honor? ” supplemented 
Flip. 

On my sacred word of honor! ” repeated Nancy 
solemnly, with uplifted hand. 

Monday, however, was one of poor little Monica’s 
bad days. Pain gnawed incessantly at her back, 
and she lay weak and helpless on the couch in the 
bedroom which she shared with Nancy. The mute 
agony in her eyes deepened, as she tried to smile. 

^^You go with Flip and Flop, Nancy. I won’t 



98 " The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 

mind being alone. Til try to sleep. Do go! Ill 
be all right/’ she pleaded. 

^^0, Monica dear, I won’t leave you. We’ll all 
go over another time, when you are feeling better.” 

“ But you promised on your sacred word of honor 
to take them to-day! ” protested the child, and if 
you break your promise, it will be my fault.” 

Nancy puckered her brow with a little frown of 
perplexity. 

I know what to do! ” she cried. I’ll let them 
go by themselves. I’ll run downstairs now and tell 
Oonah to get them ready when they come from 
school.” 

She went to the kitchen where she found Oonah 
in the midst of a wash-day chaos. 

Save us an’ bliss us! Are you tollin’ me that 
you’re goin’ to let thim little divils go to call on that 
young man by thimsilves? They’ll disgrace the 
family intoirely, they will; for niver a wan can get 
next to the near av thim for diviltry, an’ more’s the 
pity! ” 

I know it,” sighed Nancy. It’s a terrible 
risk, but I can’t leave Monica alone; and if I don’t 
let them go, as I promised, there’ll be a houseful of 
trouble. So, please see that they are washed and 
brushed and properly dressed, Oonah, and we’ll 
hope for the best.” 

Hope for the best, as you say; but that’s not so 




The " Cheer-Uppers 


99 

aisy whin your ixpictations are for the worst, 
there’s divil a doubt av that! ” 

When the twins returned from school in the after¬ 
noon they submitted to Oonah’s ministrations with 
unusual docility. There were no squirming pro¬ 
tests over the combing of unruly curls, and no lusty 
howls when a soapy cloth drew tears from their 
. eyes. 

Washed, combed, and arrayed in spotless white 
duck, they looked, as Dickens’s immortal Mrs. Ken- 
wigs might weepingly declare: Too beautiful to 
live! ” 

There! ” Donah surveyed them with grim sat¬ 
isfaction. You look as prim an’ proper as a pair 
av saints pickled in Howly Water! The divil him- 
silf wouldn’t know his own, iv he could see you 
now. But I throw it out as a hint,—thim three Jap 
haythens over there are liable to make a meal av 
you if they get the chanct, which they will iv I hear 
av you not behavin’ yoursilves. For I’ll sell the 
both av you to thim for fifty cints, I will. You may 
kiss the Book on that! ” 

Flop rang the Cedarwold bell, and when Koki 
opened the door Flip assumed the duties of spokes¬ 
man. 

^^How d’ye do? We hope you’re well and glad 
to see us! I’m Flip and she’s Flop, and we’re call¬ 
ing on Mr. Thorold.” 



I ) > 



100 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 

^^Muck obliged/^ smiled Noki. 

Dick was playing his violin when the sedate little 
visitors were ushered into the room. 

The honorable Flip-Flops/’ announced Noki. 

Dick laid the violin and bow on the table beside 
his chair. 

Ah! ” he smiled, as he pushed up his green 
shade for a momentary glance at his guests. “ You 
are the Grayson twins, aren’t you? I am delighted 
to see you.” 

The children came forward very slowly until they 
were about three feet from Dick’s chair. Then 
Flip, with his right hand pressed over his heart, 
made a very elaborate bow; and Flop, daintily hold¬ 
ing out her stiff skirt, dipped in a low curtsey. 

No one taught us to do that, we copied it from 
an old valentine,” Flop informed their host. And 
we’ve brought calling cards, ’cause this is our first 
grown-up call; and we stole them from Oonah’s 
pack that she j)lays solitude with.” 

Very solemnly they each presented Dick with a 
card on which they had written their names in 
wobbly calligraphy. Flip’s card was the ace of 
diamonds, and Flop’s the ace of hearts. Dick re¬ 
ceived the offerings with proper decorum and in¬ 
dicated seats near him. 

“ Pray be seated,” he restrained a smile. I 
trust your family are all well.” 






“We’ve come to cheer you up, you know .”—Page loi 






The Cheer-Uppers 


101 


Thank you for asking/^ replied Flip. We’re all 
feeling quite chipper, except Monica. That’s why 
she couldn’t come this afternoon, and Nancy had 
to stay with her ’cause Oonah’s busy at the wash- 
tub. Joan and Harry wouldn’t come ’cause they 
don’t like going into society; but we thought we’d 
like to try it. We’ve come to cheer you up, you 
know. We’re very good ^ cheer-uppers,’ so we hope 
you need ‘ cheer-upping.’ ” 

I am sadly in need of ‘ cheer-upping,’ and I am 
very grateful to you both for coming,” replied Dick 
heartily. 

Feeling blue and lonely? ” inquired Flop. 

«Terribly so.” Dick stroked his mustache to 
conceal his smile. 

That’s good! Flop’s face beamed with an 
angelic smile. I like your manners, you make me 
feel grown-up and importnit. Most grown-ups are 
so sniffy, but you are a polite sort of gentleman, 
and-” 

“ It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? ” interrupted Flip. 

Flop glared at her brother. ^^You shut up! I 
was to begin the polite conversation with a weather 
remark, and you were to have the War; and now 
you’ve poked in and said what I was going to say,— 
you mean, silly gump! ” 

Well, you gab too much,” retorted Flip. Shut 
up yourself! Give me a chance to get at the War.” 




102 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


Oh, take your old War! scoffed Flop. 

^^Ahem,” Flip crossed his legs and almost fell 
off his chair. “Er—^what—er—^how did you like 
the War? ’’ 

The War? ” Dick paused, as though giving the 
subject deep consideration. I must confess that 
on the whole I didn’t like it at all. [Nevertheless, 
there were times when I found it very exciting.” 

I call that extra-oiimg,^^ put in Flop. 

‘‘ Er—I must confess that I don’t think much of 
the way you ended it,” began Flip. If I’d been 
General Perishing, I wouldn’t’ve let the Germans 
have any armysticks or Legs of Nations. You and 
Perishing quit too soon.” 

You see, old chap, we were ordered to stop 
fighting, and we had to obey,” explained Dick apol¬ 
ogetically. 

Obeejinence is a very tiresome thing,” sighed 
Flop. It’s like being shut in a trap.” 

Exactly,” assented Dick. 

Obeejinence is our virtue this week.” Flop 
smoothed her stiff skirt as she spoke. ‘^We go 
every Friday afternoon to Mrs. Leavitt’s class. 
She’s a Therlossyphist, and she calls her class the 
Lowcuss Group, ’cause it makes us holy. Lowcuss 
is a holy flower, you know.” 

Lowcuss? A flower? ” questioned Dick doubt¬ 
fully. 



103 


The Cheer-Uppers 

^^Yes, a sort of lily thing, a Therlossyphist 
flower/’ 

Ah! ” Dick’s mind promptly identified the mys¬ 
terious blossom as a lotus. 

Every week we study a new virtue and try to 
stick it on our souls,” said Flop. 

We’re awfully virtuous,” added Flip. 

^^Mrs. Leavitt calls it character building. Last 
week we had honesty, and couldn’t tell lies. We 
have all sorts of virtues stuck on our souls.” Flop 
smiled blissfully. 

Sounds rather like stamp-collecting,” observed 
Dick. 

Erzactly, old chap,” agreed Flip. 

Mrs. Leavitt says we are little lowcusses,” con¬ 
tinued Flop, little unfolding flowers, and our vir¬ 
tues make us smell sweet, and our goodness spits 
out of us like perfume from a bottle that has a 
squeeze-ball on it. We have to squirt kind thoughts 
out of ourselves over all the queer things we notice 
about other people. F’rinstance, when I look at 
Susan Avery, I pretend that her scarred lip is a 
smile turned wrong-side out. Mrs. Leavitt says we 
must have kind thoughts about every one, even the 
Germans! ” 

i 

The divil fly away wid them! ” Flip smiled be¬ 
nignly. 

Dick smothered his laugh with a cough. 



104 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


Er—quite so/’ he gasped. 

Did you kill any Germans in the War? ’’ asked 
Flip. 

I believe I killed a few, but-” 

Did you get any ribbons and medals and 
things? ” cried Flop. 

I did get a medal, but I-—” 

Oh! tell us what you did, and how you got it! ” 
exclaimed the two children. 

“ I don’t quite remember,” said Dick diffidently. 
Whatever it was, it was only what thousands of 
others did throughout the War. But some one hap¬ 
pened to see me do it. You see, it isn’t so much 
what you do that gets a medal, it’s the luck of 
having some one see and remember.” 

Aw-w-w-www! ” Flip’s disappointment pro¬ 
longed the monosyllable into a drawl. “ I thought 
getting medals was like this : you’d see a chance 
of doing a brave deed and do it quick before any 
one could sneak the chance away from you; and 
then you’d rush over to a General or any King that 
happened to be around, and say: ^ Here, gimme a 
medal,’ and all the army would cheer and clap their 
hands.” 

It seems to me,” Flop gazed steadfastly at Dick, 
that you’re rubbing your mustache a nawful lot. 
There isn’t much to it, is there? It looks like a 
little black caterpillar crawling over your lip. Do 





105 


The '' Cheer-Uppers 

you stroke it to make it grow, or because it is 
itcby? ’’ 

Dick, wbo bad frequently bidden bis smiles with 
bis band, now laughed outright. 

Personal remarks, personal remarks; some¬ 
body’s making personal remarks,” sang Flip. 

Flop clapped her band to her mouth. Ob, I 
forgot we were talking to a grown-up! Personal 
remarks aren’t polite. Excuse me, but I’d really 
like to know if your mustache does itch, and why 
your lips are so twitcby.” 

You’re personal-remarking again,” warned 
Flip. 

Ob dear! ” sighed Flop. Personal remarks are 

t _ 

always so int’resting, aren’t they? Jim Deane says 
be wears a mustache to keep bis teeth warm, but 
yours isn’t big enough for that.” 

Dick rang a bell and, when Noki appeared at 
the door, be gave a brief order. 

Since this is your first grown-up call we must 
have afternoon tea in real, grown-up fashion,” be 
explained to the children. 

Flop danced on her toes. Oob! deedle, deedle, 
deedle! ” she cried. 

You’re not acting like a grown-up,” Flip 
frowned at bis sister. 

She answered him with a grimace, and then she 
turned seriously to their host. 



106 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


This isn’t meant for a personal remark, but I 
want to know what we are to call you. Plain mis¬ 
ter is so common, and any one can be a mister, ex¬ 
cept ladies; and they have to be misses or mis¬ 
suses. Have you any—er—sort of button to your 
name, like General or Admiral, or are you just a 
pufet? ” 

I’m a captain,” admitted Dick. But, may I 
ask, what is a pufft? ” 

A pufft is a man in the army who’s just a—well, 
he’s just a pufft, that’s all,” she vaguely explained. 
“ I saw in a newspaper once a long row of names 
of killed soldiers,—^ Our Gallant Dead ’ with a 
black border. There were three captains, a couple 
of loots and four corpses; but all the others were 
puffts. A nawful lot of puffts were killed. It’s a 
funny little word spelled with three letters,—^p-v-t.” 

Flip forestalled Dick’s reply. I think we’ll call 
you Captain Dick. That’s a chummy sort of name, 
and we’re going to be chums, aren’t we? ” 

We are chums, I hope,” said Dick, holding out 
his hands. 

They responded with vehement grips. 

I wish,” Flop hesitated, that we could see 
your eyes. I’m not being personal-remarky, but 
I’d like to look you square in the eye with a man- 
to-man look.” 

Dick raised his eye-shade. 





The Cheer-Uppers 


107 


Oh.! Your eyes are like brown velvet! ’’ she ex¬ 
claimed, and they’re seemg eyes! You’re not go¬ 
ing to be blind, are you? ” 

“ No,” replied Dick soberly, I have escaped 
that.” 

Noki came in with a tray which he placed on 
the table beside Dick, who turned to Flop with a 
friendly smile as the servant withdrew. 

‘^Now, Flop, I hope you will pour the tea for 
us.” 

^^Oh! may I, Captain Dick?” Her face glowed 
with delight at the honor thrust upon her. I’ve 
never poured tea before, and I’ve always wanted to. 
It’s such a grown-uppy thing to do! ” 

She stood on tiptoe, the end of her tongue peep¬ 
ing through her puckered lips, as she lifted the tea¬ 
pot with both chubby hands. 

There! ” she breathed deeply, with blissful con¬ 
tent. I didn’t spill much on the tray-cloth, and I 
hope you don’t mind a sloppy saucer. Do you take 
sugar and cream. Captain Dick? ” 

Both, please, and two lumps.” 

There isn’t much room for much cream, and 
you’ll have to drink very carefully ’cause the cup 
is too full. Just hold the cup and saucer to your 
lips and suck your tea in at first. That’ll make a 
noise which isn’t polite, but we’ll excuse you and 
pretend you don’t know any better.” 



108 The Good-for~Nothing Graysons 


Dick received the wobbly cup and saucer from 
her hands, and then she proceeded to fill two cups 
with milk. 

Flip and I take mostly milk with just a splash 
of tea/^ she explained, as she gave a realistic demon¬ 
stration of the splash, ^^and lots of sugar. Flip’s 
very piggy with sugar.” 

I’m not any piggier than you are yourself,” pro¬ 
tested Flip stuffily, munching his sandwich. 

You’re talking with your mouth full,—^bad man¬ 
ners ! ” she admonished her brother. Piggy- 
wiggy ! ” 

Huh! ” snorted Flip. I’m not spilling tea on 
my dress,— 'piggy-wiggy! ’’ 

You’re not wearing a dress! ” her cherubic face 
was distorted with a diabolical grin. 

Well,—pants, smarty! ” 

Have another sandwich,” interposed Dick pleas¬ 
antly. 

^^l^ow.that we’ve eaten all your food,” observed 
Flop after a pause, I s’ppose we’d better leave or 
you’ll think we are greedy enough to want more; 
but I couldn’t eat another crumb.” 

^Yeither could I, my stomach’s stiff and tight,” 
said Flip. 

“ It’s been a lovely tea-party,” declared Flop. 

May we come again? ” 

I hope you will,” responded Dick with fervor. 



The ‘‘ Clieer-U'p'pers^^ 


109 


I’ve enjoyed your visit, and you’ve cheered me 
up immensely.’^ 

The twins shook hands with their host, and when 
they reached the door they turned and repeated 
their valentine bow and curtsey. 

Do come again, and soon! ” smiled Dick. 

You betcha! ” replied Flip, as he bowed him¬ 
self out of the room. 

When Noki came in for the tray he found Dick 
laughing heartily. 

Honorable Flip-Flops glood mledicine for slick 
bloss,” he remarked. 

Indeed they are! I feel better already. Cass- 
burn is going to cure me, Noki.” 



CHAPTEE IX 


THE GHOST VOICE 

Dick Thorold^s first month at home passed 
quickly. The warm weather was pleasantly tem¬ 
pered by a buoyant wind, and there was a magic 
healing in the sparkling sunlight, a life-giving tonic 
in the trenchant air that set his veins tingling with 
exhilaration. His days were no longer measured by 
the foot-rule of time; they flitted by carelessly, like 
a handful of leaves torn from a calendar and blown 
away by the wind. 

His nights ceased to be a tangled thicket of 
ghastly war-dreams, through which he struggled, 
to emerge gasping, shuddering, and weighed down 
with chains of lassitude and dejection. He slept 
soundly, and every morning he awoke to a sense of 
renewed energy, a joyful realization of increasing 
strength. 

There was a strange, haunting memory that fre¬ 
quently assailed him during his waking hours, a 
vague echo of a woman^s voice that seemed to lurk 
in some obscure corner of his mind and then, with¬ 
out warning, would suddenly intrude on his con¬ 
sciousness, confusing his thoughts and puzzling him 
into exasperation over his inability to remember 
when and where he had actually heard the voice. 

110 


The Ghost Voice 


111 


There was no distinct utterance, merely the 
sound of a voice,—smooth, insinuating, drawling 
tones, that made him think of thick, half-crystal¬ 
lized honey. The persistent recurrence of the 
ghost voice,^’ as he called it, was always accom¬ 
panied by a mysterious physical sensation, as 
though a large hand were softly, yet firmly, press¬ 
ing on his left arm, urging, compelling him to do 
something against his will. 

Confound the woman! ” he would exclaim, jerk¬ 
ing his arm roughly to push aside the invisible 
hand. Who the deuce is she, and why should she 
torment me like this? Did I ever meet her? If I 
did, why can’t I visualize her? I’ll wager she has 
a Mona Lisa smile, with a voice like that! Why 
can’t I remember her name? Confound her! ” 

In his futile efforts to establish the identity of 
that Mona Lisa woman,” he would recall his life 
in France. Certainly he had not met the creature 
before the War, during his years of vagabondage 
when he had drifted about with strolling minstrels; 
and among the nurses, ambulance drivers, Y 
girls, and canteen workers, he remembered no one 
with a personality to fit the mysterious voice. 
Frank and friendly they all were, those women war- 
workers, with a sturdy, masculine courage that did 
not rob them of their femininity. 

There were blank spaces in his recollection of the 



112 ''The Good-for‘Nothing Graysons'' 


War, when wounds and shell-shock had sent him to 
Blighty. Of his last sojourn in a hospital, extend¬ 
ing over many months, his memory was chaotic. 
That period had been a veritable trip through 
hell, and he had crawled out at the other end to 
realize his blindness, which he did not know w^as 
to prove temporary, to learn that the War was 
over, and to discover with fmnbling fingers that his 
seal ring was missing from his left hand. He had 
laughed bitterly over his blindness, had cursed the 
armistice vigorously in three languages, and had 
wept with childish rage over the loss of his ring, 
accusing Wilhelm Hohenzollern of the theft. 

In some strange way, whenever that Mona Lisa 
woman ’’ bothered him with her insistent, wordless 
voice, his mind always reverted to the missing ring 
which had belonged to his father, and which he had 
worn since Mr. Thorold’s death as a tender me¬ 
mento of their reconciliation after years of es¬ 
trangement. 

One day, during Dick^s first week at Cedarwold, 
Nancy hurried up the drive and joined him on the 
terrace where he was reclining on a willow couch, 
well fortified with cushions. 

Captain Dick,’^ she began joyously, you 
dreamed of white violets when you were in England, 
and see! your dream has come true! 

“ My dream has come true! ” echoed Dick, as she 



The Ghost Voice 


113 


laid a loose bunch, of the fragile blossoms in his 
outstretched hands. 

Um-um-ummm! he inhaled deeply. 

The table beside his couch was littered with books 
and magazines. 

Surely you havenT been reading! she ex¬ 
claimed. Oh, shame on you I 

He shook his head. Not guilty! though I admit 
I must appear red-handed. But, honor bright! I 
am only pink-fingered. I have been merely handling 
the books, wishing I might read, but only pretend¬ 
ing to by turning the leaves. Noki, good soul! at¬ 
tempted to read aloud to me, but his tongue was not 
equal to the promptings of his heart; so I told him 
I felt drowsy and sent him away.’^ 

Let me read to you,’^ she offered eagerly. I 
am used to reading aloud to Monica, so Idl be bet¬ 
ter than Noki. IM love to come over and read to 
you every afternoon.’’ 

It would be a boon to me, manna to a starving 
man,” said Dick, and he raised his shade for a 
glimpse of her eager, flushed face. But you are 

a busy little person, I know; and-” 

^^My afternoons are free,” she interrupted, ^^at 
least, I could make them so until your eyes are 
strong enough for you to read yourself. Do let me 
do it! ” 

Nancy was young for her years, and divinely in- 




114 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


nocent. Her girlish, philosophy of life was em¬ 
bodied in the old verse: 

Do the good that’s nearest 
Though it’s dull at whiles, 

Helping, when you meet them. 

Lame dogs over stiles.” 

To her, Dick was simply a lame dog,’^ and she 
sought to help him in the only way she knew. 

During a month of golden weather they spent 
every afternoon in the Cedarwold gardens. Dick 
lay in the sun on an extended steamer chair and 
listened to her clear, low-toned voice with its mu¬ 
sical inflections, often peeping furtively from his 
green shade to steal a glance at her face which mir¬ 
rored the mood and meaning of what she read, and 
to admire her crinkled hair which was a trap to 
catch the sunbeams that sifted through the breeze- 
fluttered leaves overhead. 

^^We are going to change our program to-day,” 
he announced one afternoon when she appeared at 
the usual hour. I’m tired of toddling about the 
garden like a two-year-old infant on a leading¬ 
string. I’ve almost forgotten that I have a game 
leg, so we are going down to the shore for our 
reading.” 

^^Then we’ll take this magazine and finish that 
interesting article on the League of ISTations.” She 
selected a magazine from the pile on the table. 



The Ghost Voice 


115 


Oh, blow the League of ^^ations! ” he laughed. 

We’re going to be young and merrily foolish to¬ 
day and forget the world and its worries. We’ll 
read ^ Alice in Wonderland.’ I have the book in my 
pocket.” 

It was a short, easy walk through the garden to 
the beach, where wind and waves were making holi¬ 
day in honor of the sun. 

Dick lolled on the sand while Nancy, with the 
book resting on her lap, sat near him among the 
tufts of beach-grass. The coarse, green spikes were 
blue on their under sides, as though some indefati¬ 
gable fairies had painted them to match the colors 
of sea and sky. He envied the wind that deepened 
the pink of her cheeks and teased the loosened ten¬ 
drils of her hair. His hand rested on her shabby 
green sweater which she had carelessly tossed on 
the sand, touching it gently from time to time, as 
though the mere feeling of its texture gave him 
pleasure. 

When they had laughingly followed Alice’s ad¬ 
ventures to the end of the Mad Hatter’s tea-party, 
she rested from her reading, and sat with her hands 
clasped about her knees, watching the seagulls 
wheeling and dipping above the waves, and looking 
across the water at the sails that glistened whitely 
against the hazy distance of the horizon where sea 
and sky melted into one. 



116 ''The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'" 

Dick’s fingers tiglitened on the folds of the old 
sweater, tumultuous thoughts leaping in his heart 
as he watched her. She was quite unawakened, a 
little maiden of dreams whose childlike frankness 
and unselfconsciousness kindled in him a mood of 
exaltation, a wonderment that reached the stars. 

It thrilled him to imagine the dawning of her 
womanhood. There would be a startled look of be¬ 
wilderment in her eyes, a flush of shyness, and then 
love would flower in her face like the opening of a 
rose. In his heart was the tender assurance that 
she would be his. It was foreordained that his love 
should enclose her life like a wall around a garden 
of flowers. 

Thank God, there were no soiled pages in the past 
chapters of his book of life! As a youth he had 
been headstrong, wild, and rebellious, but he had 
kept his manhood clean. His wanderings in France 
with strolling players had been a healthy, outdoor 
life, full of the glamor and gaiety of youth. The 
careless intimacy of those wayfaring days might 
easily have led to besmirching episodes, but the in¬ 
herent fastidiousness of his nature had been his 
safeguard. 

He closed his eyes and thought of Pierre Fauvel 
and his daughter Miette with whom he had traveled 
one summer, the year before the Great War; little 
Miette who had sung like a lark and danced with 




The Ghost Voice 


117 


the grace of a breeze-stirred poppy; whose dark 
beauty had come from a Gipsy mother. Her father 
was gruff, uncouth, with a slight lameness that gave 
his bulky form a shambling gait like that of Toto, 
his performing bear. He had more regard for the 
safety and well-being of his animal, than for that 
of his daughter. 

Mon pere, he is a great bear of a man, like 
Toto,’^ Miette once laughingly said. Toto and I 
are Beauty an’ ze Beast; an’ you. Monsieur Heeck,” 
her voice melted into tenderness, are ze Prince 
Charming. But, zis time, it is not ze beauty zat 
sleeps,—oh, no! It is ze Prince. Some day, mon 
Prince, you will wake up, and zen,—Ooh la-la! ” 

She tossed him a kiss on her finger-tips, and then 
whirled in a series of pirouettes until she sank, 
breathless and laughing, on a rustic bench. 

One hot September afternoon they had walked 
from the village, where they were to give a perform¬ 
ance that night, to visit a woodland shrine in honor 
of her fete-day. It was to be their last ramble to¬ 
gether. The next day he was to leave for Paris. 

The air was sultry, although the woods were 
touched here and there with autumn tints. The 
fields were golden with ripened grain and splashed 
with clusters of late-blooming poppies, as though 
foretelling the crimson carnage that was to happen 
before the ending of another year. A sudden storm 



118 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


had sent them rushing for shelter into an old barn. 
The place was gloomy and dusty, filled with the 
rank smell of rotting hay that stung their nostrils. 
Through the open, sagging door Dick watched the 
storm, fascinated by the lightning that seemed to 
tear the sky to shreds, and quite oblivious of his 
trembling little companion. A blinding glare and 
a terrific clap of thunder made Miette cling to him 
in an abandon of terror, and he held her protect- 
ingly in his arms. 

Oh, Monsieur Deeck! she murmured and drew 
his face down to hers, I love you so! Take me wis 
you to-morrow! I cannot live wisout you, I love 
you so! 

For one mad moment his arms tightened about 
her slender form and his blood surged hot and 
tingling through his veins, so that his heart seemed 
to defy his reason. Miette was sweet and lovable, 
a good little soul! In her artless, girlish way she 
offered him her love. Why not marry her and save 
her from the perils of this wandering life she led 
with her father? He had no intention of returning 
to America. Just as he was about to speak, he was 
suddenly torn from her clinging embrace by a pro¬ 
longed sneeze that shook him as a terrier does a 
rat. Once, twice, thrice, he sneezed. Then he 
turned to her, laughing and gasping, his eyes 
streaming with tears. 



The Ghost Voice 


119 


This hay is horribly dusty—^Ah-chee-hoo! See, 
it is clearing up! Ah-chee-hoo! ” 

The storm ceased as suddenly as it had begun. A 
burst of sunlight swept the clouds from the sky, but 
Miette shivered as they walked along the narrow 
path to the shrine, and glanced at him timidly from 
under her long lashes when he drew the dripping 
branches aside. She knelt at the feet of the Ma¬ 
donna and prayed in silence, fingering her beads. 
The sacred image was wet and glistening. Kain- 
drops dripped from the outstretched hand onto the 
girks hair, like a benediction of tears from the 
Mother of Sorrows. Dick bared his head. 

Thank God for that sneeze! he murmured, and 
not irreverently. 

Poor little Miette! He had never seen her again 
after her tearful farewell the next day; but, three 
years later, he heard of her from her father, whom 
he met in a ruined French village which had re¬ 
cently been evacuated by the Germans. 

Pierre Fauvel was gaunt and haggard, and piti¬ 
ful as a hurt child. 

Toto is dead,^’ he mumbled, and Miette, I hope 
she is dead too! Yes, Monsieur Deeck, I hope she 
is dead! She was deported. Ze dead, zey are ze 
lucky ones now, and death is a great kindness to 
girls like Miette.’^ 

So, through the providential interposition of a 



120 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 

sneeze, Dick’s memory of little Miette was like a 
pressed flower in Ms book of life. 

Yes, thank God for that sneeze! be thought, 
as he opened his eyes and looked at Nancy who was 
still gazing, in her dreamy, unconscious way, over 
the great green highway of the waves. 

Suddenly the disturbing voice of “ that Mona 
Lisa woman ” echoed in his mind and routed his 
tender thoughts. An impatient exclamation burst 
from his lips. 

Chut! ” 

Nancy turned to him quickly, and a frown of pre¬ 
tended severity chased the smile from her lips. 

Transgressing again! Keally, Captain Dick, 
you are incorrigible. If you raise that shade again 
I shall insist on your wearing great, ugly green 
goggles, and I shall have them screwed onto your 
nose.” 

She stood up and held out her hand to assist 
him. Come, it is getting too cool for invalids to 
be out, and it is time for you to take that tonic. 
We must go home.” 

Dick gave a rueful smile. Must we really go? 
No! ” he pleaded, let us have one more chapter 
of ^ Alice ’ ! Then I’ll go home as meekly as a lamb 
and take my medicine with a smile.” 

No,” she shook her head, Medes and Persians, 
you know. My mother used to say that to me when 



The Ghost Voice 


121 


I was a youngster and objected to bedtime and oat¬ 
meal porridge and having my curls combed. How I 
bated tbe Medes and Persians! I imagined them 
as a pair of bogies. Medes was a towering giant 
with hideous tusks and fiery eyes; and Persians was 
a horrible, grotesque dwarf with a leering grin and 
long, sharp claws. Ugh I I warn you,’’ she glanced 
at him mischievously, the Medes and Persians 
will get you, if you don’t watch out! ” 



CHAPTER X 


THE SLEEVE OF CARE 

Xancy parted from Dick in the garden of Cedar- 
wold and hurried home through a gap in the hedge, 
which had been made, by Dick’s orders, to form a 
short cut for the Graysons. 

By this time, the entire family were daily visitors 
at Cedarwold; Harry to gloat over the fine collec¬ 
tion of paintings and books on art; Joan to browse 
in the library and borrow armfuls of books; the 
twins to cheer up Dick and talk with Xoki and his 
assistants; and Monica, who often accompanied 
Xancy when she came for the afternoon reading. 

Mrs. Xeve was waiting on the Grayson verandah, 
and she rose stiffly and awkwardly from an old 
willow chair as Xancy ran up the steps. She was a 
tall, gaunt, sandy-haired woman with a thin, long 
face, besprinkled with freckles and furrowed with 
lines of care. In her gnarled, reddened hands she 
held a parcel, loosely wrapped in white tissue paper. 

Pm makin’ a waist fer Jessie,” she began. A 
sorta surprise; an’ I thought maybe you wouldn’t 
mind tryin’ it on, so’s I can see if the sleeves set 
right. You an’ her’s the same size, an’ I don’t want 
her to know ’bout it till it’s done. I hate to bother 
you, Xancy.” 


122 


The Sleeve of Care 


123 


“ It^s no bother, Mrs. Neve,’^ JS^ancy assured her. 

Come up to my bedroom.’^ 

They went upstairs and Nancy hastily removed 
her'gingham dress, exclaiming rapturously when 
Mrs. Neve unfolded the tissue paper and held up a 
dainty white lawn waist, beautifully embroidered. 
The poor charwoman, whose hands were calloused 
and wrinkled with daily washing and scrubbing, 
was an artist with her needle. 

^^How lovely! Jessie will be delighted, and Pm 
glad to have the pleasure of trying it on! Nancy 
tossed her dress over the footrail of the bed and 
slipped the filmy waist over her head, smiling at 
her reflection in the mirror as Mrs. Neve adjusted 
the shoulder fastenings. 

I like makin’ pretty things fer Jessie, though I 
guess folks like Louella Greer think I’m foolish. 
But Jessie’s all I have, an’ she likes nice clothes. 
I got the lawn over to Bradbury. It cost quite a 
bit, but I wanted a fine piece. Workin’ regular at 
young Mr. Thorold’s helps a lot, fer he pays real 
well. It seems kinda queer to be workin’ ’longside 
of them Jappers. They don’t talk much; but they’re 
real polite, an’ always smilin’ like their faces was 
spread with butter. 

There! If you don’t mind standin’. I’ll jes’ 
shift these gathers while the waist’s on you. They 
don’t seem to set right, but it won’t take long.” 



124 The Good-foi'-Nothing Graysons 


Take all the time you wish, Mrs. Neve. I love 
to stand here admiring myself.’^ 

Vye hed to work at this nights after Jessie was 
in bed, so^s she wouldn’t know ’bout it. It’s real 
good in you to do this, Nancy. I’ll come an’ do 
some cleanin’ nex’ week to pay fer the trouble I’m 
givin’ you now.” 

Nancy made a deprecating gesture. It’s no 
trouble at all, and I don’t wmnt you to think of 
paying me. I haven’t forgotten how good you were 
to us last winter, when we all had the flu. You 
came to help Oonah every day, and we weren’t able 
to pay you for it.” 

That was jes’ bein’ neighborly, Nancy.” 

Then you must let me be neighborly, too. I 
envy J essie having this lovely waist! She will look 
so pretty in it. I hate to take it off.” Nancy care¬ 
fully drew her arms from the sleeves. You’d bet¬ 
ter stitch those gathers before you go. Sit down 
and let me watch you do it.” 

They sat together on the couch which stood near 
one of the windows. 

I wish I hed money so’s I c’d send Jessie away 
to a boarded school where they learn girls to play 
the piano an’ be real ladies,” said Mrs. Neve as she 
sewed. She has the makin’s of a lady, she’s so 
pretty an’ refined; an’ her hands is soft an’ white 
’cause I don’t ever let her do housework. If she c’d 



The Sleeve of Care 


125 


go where folks didn’t know I was her mother, they’d 
think she was a lady. It’s hard fer a girl to hev a 
common washwoman fer a mother.” 

Oh, Mrs. Neve, I think Jessie is lucky to have 
you for a mother! You aren’t common, you are 
gentle and kind, and so good to Jessie.” 

The harsh, unlovely face was softened with a 
pathetic, twisted smile. Jessie ain’t never acted 
like she was ’shamed o’ me. I’ll say that,” she said 
bravely. An’ she learned lady manners when she 
boarded over to Bradbury that winter she went 
to high school. I’d saved up enough money fer 
that. But you see, I’ve always wanted to be a lady 
myself, like the pictures in books; but I ain’t never 
bed a chance to be anythin’ but a drudge. My folks 
was terrible poor an’ they died when I was young, 
and I never hed nobody to learn me manners.” 

Nancy touched the woman’s arm with a gentle 
caress. ^^You have something better, far better 
than manners,—a kind heart.” 

When I married Jack Neve I thought as how I 
c’d be happy. He was good-lookin’, real handsome; 
an’ I’m glad Jessie favors him ’stead o’ me. I met 
him in the boardin’-house over to Bradbury where 
I was workin’. He’d been a sailor an’ hed traveled 
the world over; an’ when he come to Bradbury he 
was sickenin’ fer a fever he’d caught down in Cuber. 
He was laid up fer a long spell, an’ I helped nurse 



126 "" The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


him. He seemed real fond o’ me, an’ thought he’d 
like to settle down an’ give up his rovin’ life. 

So we was married, an’ he was a real good 
husband; but I c’d see as how he was growin’ tired 
o’ the quiet life. He’d hev restless spells, an’ some¬ 
times he’d go out an’ walk ’bout all night long. 
Then he was always quarrelin’ with his boss an’ 
changin’ his jobs. He was so hot-tempered that 
he couldn’t seem to get along with folks; but he 
always spoke gentle an’ soft to me; an’ he give me 
his wages regular, ’cause he said he was a spender 
an’ I c’d save. 

^^Well, he went off one day to his work, an’ I 
never heard tell of him since. He called out ^ good¬ 
bye ’ an’ waved his hand at the gate, like he did 
every mornin’ when he went to work; an’ all day 
long I was busy an’ happy, plannin’ how I’d tell 
him when he come home fer supper that there was 
a baby cornin’ to us. I thought, maybe, a child’d be 
a sorta anchor to him an’ hold him down contented- 
like. But that was the last I ever seen of him— 
jes’ a wave o’ the hand an’ a smile. 

It seemed like I’d gone crazy till Jessie come. 
So my girl means a lot to me. She’s,—^well, I don’t 
think any real lady c’d love her girl more’n I love 
my Jessie. But a lady c’d do lots that I can’t do 
fer her. I’m such an ugly gawk, an’ I’ve got no 
manners. I’m common.” 



The Sleeve of Care 


127 


Nancy’s eyes were misty with, tears. You’re a 
wonderful mother, Mrs. Neve. Every one knows that.” 

The woman sighed. I was kinda worried ’bout 
Jessie las’ winter. When Sid Hale was home for 
Christmas he seemed like he was courtin’ her; but, 
you know he’s a bit wild an’ a trouble to his folks. 
I’d be feared to hev Jessie marry him. He used to 
send her letters when he went back to Boston, but 
they ain’t corresponded lately, so I’m hopin’ it 
won’t come to anythin’. I want Jessie to be happy 
when she gets married, and Sid,—well, he ain’t 
steady and I don’t think he’d be kind to her. Bein’ 
in the army warn’t so good fer him, like his father 
thought it’d be, ’cause he was so mad ’bout not get- 
tin’ over to the French country where all the fightin’ 
was goin’ on, that it made him more wild-like.” 

I know Sidney is a worry to his parents,” said 
Nancy. It’s a great pity, for they are such dear 
people. But he is at the selfish, thoughtless age 
when many young men seem to glory in being fool¬ 
ish and reckless. Perhaps, when he is older, he will 
settle down and be a fine, noble man like his 
father.” 

Mrs. Neve rose with a heavy sigh. He’ll be 
cornin’ back soon, an’ I wish I c’d send Jessie away 
somewheres, so’s there’d be no chance o’ them seein’ 
each other. It’s been real comfortin’ to talk to you, 
Nancy. You’re a dear, sweet girl! If your 



128 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons "" 


mother’d lived, she’d’ve been proud an’ happy over 
you.” 

Nancy accompanied her to the gate, pausing on 
the way to gather a bunch of flowers which she 
placed in the woman’s hand. 

They’re real pretty, Nancy. I love flowers, but 
I ain’t got time to tend them, an’ Jessie don’t seem 
to care ’bout our little garden this year. She used 
to spend a lot o’ time with the flowers but, somehow 
or other, she’s kinda lost interest. I hope she ain’t 
carin’ fer Sid Hale, an’ frettin’ ’bout him not 
writin’.” 

‘‘ Do you know, Mrs. Neve, I think you ought to 
let Jessie do some housework so that she wouldn’t 
have time to mope or even think about Sidney. 
Whenever I feel like grizzling, I And something to 
do,—sweep the living-room or bake a cake. Work 
is a wonderful cure-all. Let Jessie try it! ” 




CHAPTER XI 


CHECK AND CHECKMATE 

The rain was settling down into a clammy mist, 
wliicli drifted througli the open windows into the 
living-room where Nancy sat with her mending- 
basket beside her. She was ripping the hem of 
Joan’s pink gingham dress, which had so frequently 
renewed its youth in Oonah’s wash-tub that it had 
faded into the unmistakable pallor of old age. 

Monica was helping Flip and Flop to arrange 
their geographical puzzle blocks in a map of North 
America. They were grouped at one end of the 
large table, which was still partly set for breakfast, 
to accommodate Joan who had not yet made her 
appearance. 

Joan had indulged in midnight reading since 
Dick Thorold gave her the freedom of his library. 
Nancy’s remonstrances over this unhealthy habit 
were unavailing. Joan would only shrug her shoul¬ 
ders and murmur, without raising her eyes from 
her book, Aw, ring off, the line’s busy! ” 

And now, as usual, Joan’s cold breakfast awaited 
her. A rasher of bacon was embedded in congealed 
fat, the loaf of bread was growing dry, cream was 
forming on the top of a glass of milk, a pat of but- 

129 


130 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


ter was dissolving into a golden pool, and a fly was 
struggling to extricate itself from an uncovered jar 
of strawberry jam. 

Oonab entered the room and stood, arms akimbo, 
looking at the table with grim disapproval. 

Whin the divil comes to look fer his own he’ll 
find that Joan-girl in bed, he will. Wid a heart an’ 
a half I could bate the laziness out av her. I’ll bet 
she’s layin’ in her bed, slapin’ loike a corpse wid the 
flies holdin’ a wake over her; an’ her lamp as dry as 
prohibition’ll be, wid the wick burned to a black 
crisp. Take it or lave it, the truth is, she’ll be set- 
tin’ fire to the house some night an’ burnin’ us up 
in our beds; an’ a pleasint divarsion that’ll be! 
Failin’ aslape over her books, bad cess to thim! 
An’ lavin’ the lamp lighted an’ smokin’ till it goes 
out av its own will! Say the worrud, l^ancy, an’ 
it’ll give me hell’s delight to go up wid the broom¬ 
stick an’ let her have a taste av a last-day resur- 
riction! ” 

At that moment Joan came in, yawning audibly. 
She looked pale and owlish, and carried a book 
in the crook of her elbow, with her thumb inserted 
as a marker. 

So! ” Oonah’s tone was truculent. You’ve 
condescinded at last, hev you, to let the light av 
your prisence shine on the family? It’s divil an 
egg I’ll bile at this hour for a lazy bit av baggage 



Check and Checkmate 


131 


that slapes while others is worrukin’ their heads 
off!” 

“ Thanks awfully,” drawled Joan, as she propped 
her book against the sugar-bowl and proceeded to 
cut a thick, crooked slice of bread. 

I donT believe in early rising,” she continued. 

It’s a custom of the barbarous ages. I’m no sun- 
worshipper.” She helped herself to jam and began 
to spread it, nursery fashion, over her bread. 

Sun-worshipper, indade! It’s a sun-dodder you 
are, wid your laziness.” 

Joan licked a finger-tip and proceeded to munch 
a liberal bite of bread and jam. 

Oh, say! ” cried Flip, starting up from his seat 
and upsetting the continent of North America,— 
sending Florida into Canada and Michigan into 
the Atlantic Ocean, while Texas turned a somer¬ 
sault and became the Desert of Sahara separating 
Maine from New Zealand. Joan, you’ve swallowed 
a fly! I watched you spreading it on your bread. 
Its wings shivered, but you didn’t notice, and you 
flattened it down. And now you’ve eaten it! ” 

Joan smiled imperturbably and helped herself 
to more jam, which seemed to Monica’s eyes to be 
a mass of sticky flies. The child, feeling sickened 
and disgusted, left the table and went to the front 
window. 

“ Aw well, a few flies won’t hurt me,” observed 



132 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


Joan tranquilly. often swallowed worms 

wlien eating apples/’ and site slowly turned a page 
of the book before her. 

Oonah reached out and seized the volume. 

Eadin’ an’ atin’ all to wanst, an’ too lazy to know 
what you’re puttin’ into your mouth. What’s this 
you’re radin’? M-A-E-E, that’s a horse. !N-0-S- 
T-E-U-M, that’s a medicine. My sowl to glory! 
Horse Medicine! What nixt? The other day it 
was ^ The Four Horsemen wid the Apoplexy.’ Is 
it studyin’ to be a vet’inary doctor you are? Shure, 
you’re the wondher av the age, there’s divil a doubt 
av that! While grass grows an’ wather runs there’ll 
niver be another to bate the loikes av you for book 
nonsince.” She threw the book on the table. 

A fragment of a smile flickered across Nancy’s 
face. Joan, her complacency unrufled, picked up 
her book, turned to the right page, and resumed her 
reading. 

Here’s Harry! ” exclaimed Monica, and he has 
a letter.” 

A moment later, Harry appeared. 

^^From Father,” he announced briefly, as he 
tossed the letter to Nancy. 

She opened it with eager, fumbling fingers. A 
check at last! ” she cried, waving a strip of yellow 
paper. 

Then she read the accompanying letter. A be- 



Chech and "" Checkmate 


133 


wildered frown dented lier forehead as she turned 
to the second page. She read to the end, and the 
letter fell among the folds of Joanns dress, which 
was gathered into a heap on her lap. 

What^s the news, Nance? asked Harry. 

Oh! ’’ she looked at the others, Father’s,— 

Father is married! 

Stunned into silence, they gazed at one another 
with wide-eyed, breathless dismay. The clock 
ticked with loud monotony and seemed to perforate 
the stillness of the room, like a pin being jabbed 
through a piece of parchment. 

Oonah spoke first. ^^Well! the soot’s in the 
stew-pot now! ” 

Nancy was impelled to an outbreak of hysterical 
mirth, as the others besieged her with questions. 
Who is she? ” 

When were they married? ” 

^^Does Father say what she’s like? ” 

Are they coming here to live? ” 

‘^Who is she, indade?” Oonah asked scornfully. 
She’s your stepmother; an’ I’ll say she’ll niver 
suffer wid brain fever iv she was foolish enough to 
be taken in wid your father’s blarney so that she 
married him wid a hope av happiness in her heart. 
An’ it’s hopin’ I am, that she’s a tartar an’ he’ll 
get what’s been long in cornin’ to him! ” 

Monica clung to Nancy. ^^Will she be a cruel. 



134 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


fairy-tale stepmother? What shall we do if she 
comes here? ’’ 

Nancy drew the trembling child onto her lap. 

I don’t think Father will bring her here. She’s 
very wealthy, he says, so I am sure she won’t bother 
about us.” 

Wealthy, is she? Then the fools ain’t all dead 
yit,” declared Oonah. 

“ Fancy Father in love! ” giggled Joan. 

I bet he’s married her for her money,” remarked 
Harry soberly. ^^He’d never fall in love; there’s 
no fool-flummery about Father.” 

^^An’ I’m hopin’ she’ll soon And it out, an’ act 
accordianly,” added Oonah. Save us and bliss us! 
The Lorrud, wid some trick in His moind may’ve 
made this marriage; but iv He did, I’ve a strong 
guess that the divil is wearin’ a grin on his face 
that’ll make the angels in Hivin sing out av chune 
for miny a long day. Well, well, the worruld is 
full av tricks! ” 

Anyway, Father has sent a check,” said Harry, 
his practical mind emerging from a haze of bewil¬ 
derment. ^^I suppose it is that woman’s money. 
Father will find her useful, if she’s generous with 
her checks. I suppose that’s why he married her,— 
to have a ^checkmate.’ What’s the check good 
for? ” 

Two hundred dollars,” answered Nancy. I’ll 



Check and '' Checkmate 


135 


endorse it so you can take it over to Sam Brackett 
right away, Harry. Pay that awful bill of his, poor 
man! And buy yourself two pairs of khaki 
^ trousies.’ ” 

Two pairs? ” Harry gave a whoop of delight. 

Oh, my eye! ’’ His rapture changed to startled 
dismay. Something has happened to my long- 
suffering pants! The hour of dissolution has come! 
My joy has busted them. Just give me the once 
over, Nance, and see if Pm fit to appear in public.’’ 

Nancy surveyed him, as he turned slowly. 

They’ll hold together until you get home with the 
new ones,” she assured him, as she crossed to her 
writing-desk which stood near one of the windows. 

Can’t we go with Harry and get some new 
shoes?” asked Flop plaintively. ^^Mine squeeze 
my feet and my little toes are getting sore, and 
Flip’s have holey soles.” 

Nancy nodded acquiescence, as she blotted her 
signature before handing the check to Harry. The 
twins scampered off with their brother. Oonah 
cleared the table and carried the dishes to the 
kitchen. 

Joan, her book forgotten, began to speculate 
about the unknown stepmother. Suppose she 
turns out to be a decent sort and takes a fancy to 
us, and acts like a fairy-godmother! Wouldn’t that 
be wonderful? ” 



136 " The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


]:^^'ancy smiled skeptically. can't imagine 

Father marrying a woman like that. His letter 
says that they have been married over a month. 
If she felt any interest in ns she would have sent 
us a message, or enclosed a little note with his; but 
there isn't a kindly word from her. She evidently 
intends to ignore us." 

I guess that’s right,” agreed Joan. Perhaps 
she didn't like his sending us the check. She's 
probably a handsome, selfish creature, fond of dress 
and show, with a yapping little poodle; the sort of 
wohian who thinks children are a nuisance, just as 
Father does. Oonah's right, the world is full of 
tricks; and Shakespeare backs her up with Ho¬ 
ratio's lines about Ophelia: ^ She speaks much of her 
father; says she hears there's tricks i' the world.' ” 

Mr. Grayson's check, lighted at one end by the 
payment of long-standing debts and at the other by 
the purchase of urgent necessities, soon burned out 
like the proverbial candle. There was no further 
word from him and, after a time, the stepmother 
became a sort of myth to the family. There was 
the usual nine days' wonder in Cassburn over the 
marriage; but, when it became apparent that the 
event had created no change in the home of the 
“ good-for-nothing Graysons," the villagers ceased 
to discuss it. 

After a brief visit to New York, Dick Thorold 



Chech and Checkmate 


137 


returned in Ms new touring car. It was Harry 
wlio reported his arrival to Nancy. 

Gee! I hardly knew him. He looks awfully 
fit, and he’s wearing a pair of rubber-tired spec¬ 
tacles that make him look like an owl or a college 
professor. He’s got a dandy car,—a seven passen¬ 
ger; and he says he wants to take the whole ca¬ 
boodle of us out on picnics and trips. And he’s 
offered to teach me to run the car. Isn’t he bully? ” 
The boy’s face was flushed with excitement. And 
say,—Sid Hale’s come back. I saw him and Jessie 
Neve on the shore this morning. He was all dolled 
up in a new suit,—a real candy dude. They seemed 
to be quarreling. He was red in the face and looked 
mad enough to bite her; and she seemed to be 
petting a grouch, although she was a bit weepy.” 

Dick, without his green shade, was a strange 
Dick to Nancy. She found his gaze through the 
shell-rimmed spectacles disconcerting, and her 
frankness and unconsciousness of manner were 
chilled into a shy dignity and reserve. There was 
a whimsical tenderness in his brown eyes that puz¬ 
zled her, and the gleam of humor, that matched his 
boyish smile, made her restless and ill at ease. 
With their first meeting the easy familiarity of 
their comradeship merged into something different, 
and a subtle suspicion of change crept into their 
intimacy. 



138 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons '' 


Early one evening Dick strolled along the shore. 
The tide was out, and sea and shore stole an opales¬ 
cent shimmer from the sunset colors that lingered 
in the sky, where daylight had faded into a pale, 
lucent green. 

She’s growing up,” he mused, and it frightens 
her. I wonder,—no, it’s too soon for me to speak. 
We’ve known each other only a few short weeks. 
^ Watchful waiting ’ isn’t as easy as it sounds, but 
it’s the best policy. There’s no hurry, my time will 
come.” 

It was late when Dick returned to the house. 
He went up to his den and played softly, drawing 
from his violin tender melodies that stole through 
the night like the sweet south that breathes upon 
a bank of violets,” and reached the ears of Nancy, 
who lay restless and wakeful, staring towards the 
open window. From the garden came dewy fra¬ 
grances, the songs without words of the flowers; 
and the moon, now risen high, poured its pearly 
radiance over the world, making the night seem 
like the silvery ghost of a day. 



CHAPTER XII 


JOAN PUTS A FINGER IN THE PIE 

Joan tripped awkwardly over the door-sill when 
she entered the post-office, and found the usual 
gathering of women in Watch-and-Pry Corner. 
She gave them a brusque nod of greeting as she 
produced three pennies from her middy pocket and 
asked for a stamp. 

‘‘I s’pose,” Miss Louella’s smile was flavored 
with vinegar, ^‘that we’ll soon be bearin’ of an¬ 
other weddin’ in your family. The whole village is 
jes’ holdin’ its breath, waitin’ fer an announcement. 
Or, maybe, Nancy’s goin’ to surprise us, like your 
father did, an’ get married on the Q. T.” 

Nancy!” gasped Joan, and in her amazement 
she licked the stamp before dropping it into the 
little upper pocket, which looked as though it had 
been patched on her middy to protect her heart. 

Nancy isn’t going to be married! ” 

“Well, we’re all thinkin’ that it won’t be her 
fault if she ain^t married sooner or later. An’ I 
don’t know as I blame her for runnin’ after young 
Mr. Thorold the way she does. It’d be a great thing 
for your family if she got him, he bein’ so rich. 
But it seems like as if he’s mighty slow in pro- 

139 


140 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


posin’, ’nless you’re keepin’ tlie engagement a 
secret.” 

Joan paled with fury. Her heart flamed with, im¬ 
potent resentment as she saw the women in the 
bay-window nod and smile with sly meaning. She 
dashed out of the post-oflice. The houses, sky, and 
landscape were jumbled together into a topsy-turvy 
mass before her anger-blinded eyes. She ran along 
the street, which seemed to rise and fall like waves 
under her feet. When she reached Cedar Street she 
stopped, panting with heat and rage. 

The devil-cats! If Nancy knew what that old 
drip-nosed Louella is saying, she’d throw herself 
into the sea. I wish I could cut out Louella’s 
tongue and make her eat it! And Captain Dick,— 
does he think our Nancy’s running after him? 
That we want her to marry him because he’s rich? 
Oh!” 

Her tears mingled with perspiration as she tossed 
her hair from her burning cheeks. 

^ Slow in proposing ’ ! Perhaps he’s laughing at 
us, thinking we’re throwing Nancy at him, and that 
she’s trying to catch him! Ugh! I’ll enlighten 
him! ” 

Her determination crystallized into action. Half 
an hour later she crossed the lawn of Cedarwold, 
carrying an armful of books. For once Joan had 
dressed herself with care. Her hair was smooth 




“I S'POSE THAT we’ll SOON BE REARIN’ OF ANOTHER WEDDIN’ 

IN YOUR FAMILY. ”—Pagf6 139 , 






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Joan Puts a Finger in the Pie 141 


and sMning from a vigorous application of a wet 
brush, and neatly held back by a band of black 
velvet ribbon; her gingham dress was fresh and all 
the buttons were inserted in their respective but¬ 
tonholes ; her shoes were properly tied, and her face 
glowed from its recent immersion in cold water. 

Dick was seated under an oak at the end of the 
garden. Bobs was stretched on the grass at his 
feet, dozing lazily and snapping at intervals at 
teasing flies, and occasionally licking his master’s 
boots. Joan, on seeing Dick, turned and ap¬ 
proached him slowly. 

What a voracious reader you are, Joan! ” he 
observed, as she laid the books on the rustic table 
and sat on the grass beside Bobs, folding herself up 
with her chin resting on her knees and her hands 
clasping her legs. 

I’m tired of fiction,” she announced. There 
are so many silly love stories,—all bosh! Books 
aren’t true to life, they’re just plots. Things never 
happen in life as they do in books, for life isn’t 
plotty, it’s patchy.” 

^ Oh, wise young judge! ’ ” murmured Dick. 

Fate is just a scrap-bag,” she continued, “ filled 
with odds and ends, mostly rubbish; and we pull 
out shreds and patches with our eyes closed; and 
then we have to join them together into a crazy 
quilt. That’s life,—a patchwork quilt, a crazy 



142 "" The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


quilt! ’’ She plucked a long blade of grass, and 
began to chew the end of it. 

Dick smiled at the girPs vehemence. ‘^And 
sometimes, after blindly selecting our scraps, we 
find it hard to fit them together, eh, Joan? And 
often we have to snip and trim off the pieces we 
treasure most, to fit them into the motley design. 
That’s a thankless task.” 

Take love, for instance.” She tossed the blade 
of grass aside. 

Ah! ” Dick laughed, that’s the prize in Fate’s 
scrap-bag, a choice piece of velvet or brocade! ” 
Huh! ” grunted Joan, with a cotton back and 
it soon gets shoddy. Now,—Nancy’s—er —quilt is 
covered with such pieces. I never knew a girl like 
her for love affairs! Every time she puts her hand 
into the bag she draws what you call a prize.” 

She leaned over and appeared to be searching 
diligently for something in the grass. 

Dick frowned. Love affairs? Nancy? ” 

Uhuh,” the tone was casual as she plucked three 
blades of grass, tied them into a knot, and began 
to braid them. It’s just a habit she’s got. Nancy 
isn’t as green as she looks. Sweet, bashful inno¬ 
cence is her game. People often think that she’s 
just come out of the shell and hasn’t scratched yet; 
but they’ve got another guess coming.” 

Joan was braiding the grass very slowly and 



Joan Puts a Finger in the Pie 143 


deliberately. She was so absorbed in her work that 
she did not look up at Dick. 

Of course,—er-” she hesitated. Nancy 

has one truly lasting affair, a wonderful romance. 
She’s—er—really engaged, you know.” 

‘‘No, I didn’t—know.” 

“ Oh! It’s frightfully romantic! Like Eomeo 
and Juliet, they fell in love at first sight. You 
know the way it works,—one look, and then the 
lightning strikes. She wears his ring on a cord 
made of her hair around her neck. Silly, isn’t it? 
But the engagement is a secret, and I suppose she 
thinks that wearing the ring on her finger would 
be like pinning her heart on her sleeve.” 

“ Where is—^the—^lucky man? ” 

“He’s in Patagonia,—^no, I mean Cuba. He’s 
awfully poor, but Nancy loves him. She wouldn’t 
dream of marrying a wealthy man; she hates 
money. Her ideal is love in a cottage with a honey¬ 
suckle porch, bread and cheese in the pantry, and 
a smoky stove in the kitchen.” 

“It must be hard for Na—^your sister to be 
separated from her fianc4,—to have him so far 
away.” 

“It is, but instead of letting her heart thump 
out dirges, she consoles herself with running 
around with any man who happens to come along. 
People sometimes get the idea that she’s chasing 





144 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


them, throwing herself at them; but she isn’t. 
She’s just keeping her heart wound up like a phono¬ 
graph so that it will be ready for the grand, sweet 
song of her life,—the wedding march. I’m ashamed 
to say it, but Nancy’s a terrible flirt. And she does 
it well, don’t you think? ” 

Very well.” 

Joan unfolded herself, rose to the full height of 
her long legs, and gathered up the books from the 
table. Her face was flushed, and she still avoided 
looking at Dick. 

I’ll take these books in and help myself to some 
more, may I? ” 

Certainly,—the library is yours, as you know, 
Joan.” 

I did that rather neatly,” she observed to her¬ 
self as she crossed the garden to the house. Now 
he won’t think that Nancy is running after him, try¬ 
ing to catch him because he’s rich! I wonder if I 
hurt his feelings, he seemed to be so quiet about it 
all! ” A tiny thorn of doubt began to prick her 
mind. He’s a dear old thing, and perhaps he does 
care. Oh, well! men are so stuck on themselves, and 
girls are such ninnies,—ready to flop into any man’s 
arms before he even begins to pop the question. 
And it’s a good thing for any man to have a crimp 
put into his conceit! ” 

Nancy engaged? ” Dick clenched his hands, 



Joan Puts a Finger in the Pie 145 


making tke knuckles white. His throat worked 
convulsively. The sky was high and dazzlingly blue, 
but it seemed to turn into a lowering black mass 
before his eyes. 

Nancy engaged! That was why she hadn’t 
troubled to answer the letter he had sent her from 
New York! She was too busy writing to that chap 
in Cuba. 

He did not know that his unanswered letter, still 
unopened, was in one of the books which Joan had 
borrowed and was now replacing on his library 
shelves. After bringing the letter from the post- 
ofhce she had forgotten to give it to Nancy, and 
had used it as a bookmark,—^a thoroughly Joanesian 
blunder. 

Nancy engaged! The thought shattered Dick’s 
dreams and buried his heart in the ruins. 

Bobs sniffed at him anxiously. With a deep sigh 
that shook his great body, he placed his head on 
Dick’s knee and looked up mournfully. His master 
did not stroke him, did not see the dumb affection 
in the pleading eyes. 

That night a clammy mist crept in from the sea 
and smeared the light that gleamed from Dick’s 
bedroom windows into a pale yellow blur. He had 
finished a hasty packing and sat smoking in gloomy 
silence, brooding over his half-formed plans. On 
the table lay an unanswered letter which had come 



146 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


tlie day before. It was from an old friend of Ms 
family, inviting bim to visit ber borne in Newport. 
'He remembered Mrs. Seaton as one of bis motber^s 
most popular guests, tbe only one wbo bad treated 
bim with an affectionate camaraderie when be was 
in tbe hobbledehoy stage of bis boyhood; and she 
bad written to bim in a jolly, friendly fashion 
which recalled her former kindness to bim. He 
read tbe letter over again and decided to motor tbe 
next day to New York, where be would interview 
bis tailor and telegraph bis acceptance of her in¬ 
vitation. 

She bad promised bun hosts of pretty girls to 
play with, to which she added her assurance that 
she would protect bim from tbe wiles of worldly 
mothers wbo were anxious to transfer their respon¬ 
sibilities to eligible male beings with attractive in¬ 
comes. Having married off her own three daugh¬ 
ters, she knew all tbe tricks, so be would be safe 
under her wing. 

And now, Dick was running away again, bis old- 
time boyish habit, to forget tbe girl wbo bad hood¬ 
winked bim. Tbe glamor was gone. Nancy was a 
heartless flirt whose sweet, gracious charm and 
childlike frankness were nothing more than tbe 
tricks of coquetry. 

Tbe bitterness of disillusionment swept over bim 
and made bim feel like a lonely, hurt child; like 



Joan Puts a Finger in the Pie 147 


the little wistful lad of long ago whose mother had 
never visited him for a bedtime cuddle, and had 
never stolen into his room late at night to kiss him 
on his sleep-flushed cheek, like the mothers he had 
marveled at in story-books. 

There is always a lonely corner in the hearts of 
men and women whose childhood has been deprived 
of a mother’s hopes and prayers that weave white 
dreams over sleeping children; a corner fllled with 
the dust of dreams, where secret longings are stored 
away and forgotten. 

Dawn was stealing over the sea when Dick left 
Cassburn in his car. On leaving, he gave a note to 
i^oki, instructing him to deliver it during the morn¬ 
ing to Nancy. It was briefly worded, a formal ex¬ 
pression of regret that he was obliged to leave for 
New York and would, therefore, miss her birthday 
tea-party that afternoon. 

The whirr and rumble of the automobile, as it 
glided up the road, woke Nancy. She opened her 
eyes and gazed dreamily towards the open window, 
where the white muslin curtains were fluttering in 
the breeze, showing glimpses of trees and pale pink- 
flushed sky. 

When she went downstairs she found Jerry at 
the front door, holding an armful of pink roses. 
The newly-risen sun shone behind him and rested 
on his uncovered head, making his wonderful hair 



148 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 

seem like golden mist. With a joyous chuckle he 
held one rose to her cheek. Then, after showing 
her that he had painstakingly removed all the 
thorns, he placed the sheaf of blossoms in her arms. ' 

Flip and Flop greeted her with the customary 
birthday slaps, one for each year of her age and an 
extra one to grow on.’’ With Monica, the slaps 
were kisses. 

It’s a perfect day for your birthday, Nancy! ” 
she said after the final kiss. All crisp and clean 
and shiny! It has been washed by the dew, blued 
by the sky, starched by the breeze, and ironed by 
the sun! ” 

Dick’s note, which came to Nancy after break¬ 
fast, rubbed all the gloss from the day, leaving it 
tarnished and dull. The twenty-third of June,— 
Midsummer Eve! The one day in the year when 
the fairies come back to the world and make it 
young again! But it seemed to Nancy that they 
had forgotten to come back this time, or perhaps 
Dick’s note had driven them away! 

They had the birthday supper outside, in the 
front yard which was half garden, half orchard. 
Nancy sat at the head of the table, her mouth grave 
and unsmiling, her face touched to a wistful soft¬ 
ness. There were twenty lighted candles on the 
cake, but Nancy’s sighs could not blow them out. 
So the twins joyfully puffed at the tiny, flame- 



Joan Puts a Finger in the Pie 


149 


tipped columns, and the flames withered into wisps 
of smoke. 

Monica must cut the cake,’^ said Nancy. 

But you ought to cut it yourself! ’’ objected the 
child. 

Nancy smiled and shook her head. No, you cut 
it,—for luck! 

Then you must have the first piece because it is 
your birthday. I hope you will get the ring! 

I’ve got the nickel! announced Joan presently. 

<< I’ve got the ring! ” cried Flop. 

^^And I-” Nancy laughed, got the 

thimble! 

Then you’ll be an old maid, sure! said Flip 
and Flop. 




CHAPTER XIII 


THE LOTUS GROUP 

The weather grew warmer and the early days of 
July staggered by, burdened with a temperature 
that was almost tropical. Thunder was always 
threatening, but never came. 

Xancy and the twins were walking along Poplar 
Street towards the red brick house where the Leav¬ 
itts lived. The tall, slender trees laid narrow 
strips of shade on the dusty, sun-baked street, but 
gave no shelter from the dazzling sun. Occasion¬ 
ally, thunder-clouds passed overhead and made the 
heat more oppressive. The fields and distant woods 
were mottled with the moods of the sky, now 
shadowed by the moving clouds, now glaring be¬ 
neath the unmasked sun. 

Xancy was pale and droopy, and the joyous 
elasticity had gone from her walk. She had spent 
most of the previous night caring for Monica. 
Household worries nagged at her mind as she fol¬ 
lowed Flip and Flop, whose usual loquacity had 
been reduced to silence by the heat. It was not her 
wont to indulge in gloomy speculations and fore¬ 
bodings, but her sunny disposition had deserted her 
and a vague sense of loneliness teased her soul. 

She missed the jolly afternoons with Dick 

150 


The Lotus Group 


151 


Thorold, for, until liis hurried departure, they had 
continued their readings; and she longed to hear his 
music again. Dick had an admirable technique, 
and played with a dash and verve that thrilled her 
into wakefulness, as she sat each night at her bed¬ 
room window. Then, when dreamy melodies stole 
through the trees, she would creep into bed, to drift 
on the current of music into the wonderland of 
dreams. 

All unconsciously, she had been creating for her¬ 
self a new heaven and a new earth, using airy, un¬ 
substantial materials,—such stuff as dreams are 
made on ”—^rainbow bubbles of fancy, too frail for 
the touch of a word. She had been gloriously 
happy—just to be alive was a triumph. And now 
life seemed dull, empty, stripped of dreams; and 
she could not shake off the strange depression that 
had clipped the wings of her spirit. 

They reached the Leavitt home and turned in at 
the gate of the white picket fence. A straight, 
graveled path led to the house, which was glaringly 
new and stood out among the time-mellowed dwell¬ 
ings of Cassburn like a raiv, red sore. The smooth 
lawn displayed the owner^s name, spelled in alpha¬ 
betical beds of bright geraniums and variegated 
foliage plants, like the name of a railroad sta¬ 
tion,’’ reflected ^Tancy with a smile, as she rang the 
bell. 



152 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


Mrs. Leavitt welcomed them with her customary 
impressive manner. She prided herself upon the 
elegance of her diction, and never used a word of 
one syllable if a synonym of three could be found in 
the dictionary. 

It is unspeakably gratifying to me, Nancy, to 
see your cheerful countenance on this excessively 
torrid afternoon. And it was exceedingly gracious 
of you to comply with my request that you should 
assume my duties at the piano, for which I am in¬ 
capacitated through the misfortune of having run a 
splinter into the third digit of my left hand. I 
appreciate the fact that your incessant and onerous 
household obligations, which I am sure you most 
admirably discharge, grant you but slight leisure. 
Therefore, I feel myself beholden to you to such an 
extent that words are too feeble to express my sense 
of indebtedness. The tardiness of your arrival has 
delayed the commencement of our meeting ten min¬ 
utes. So, as our little lotus buds are assembled and 
waiting, we will proceed without further proroga¬ 
tion.^’ 

Nancy’s smile winged itself away on a sigh as she 
sat at the piano and struck the opening chords of 

Onward, Christian Soldiers,” which well-known 
air supported the weak, doggerel verse sung by ten 
perspiring children as they marched around the 
room, led by Mrs. Leavitt. 



The Lotus Group 


153 


On the mantel-shelf squatted a large bronze 
Buddha with its placid, imperturbable smile. A 
table underneath, covered with a green plush cloth, 
held a small yellow jar, from which the smoke of 
burning incense curled lazily. 

At the conclusion of the hymn the children began 
to seat themselves, cross-legged fashion, in a circle 
on the floor, snifflng audibly as the fumes of the 
incense floated about the room. 

You will ensconce yourself at the other side of 

the circle, Nancy,—opposite me, and-” 

Here Mrs. Leavitt was interrupted by an outcry 
from her daughter Elaine, a sturdy youngster whose 
age was verging on seven years. 

I hate Flip! ’’ she screamed. He pulled my 
hair, and I hate him. I hate everybody! ” 

The other children, roused from their apathy, 
stared with open-eyed interest. 

Mrs. Leavitt turned to Nancy with a deprecatory 
smile. 

Elaine is so psychic to-day. There are tense 
vibrations in the atmosphere. She is extremely 
psychic.” 

Flip was ruefully rubbing his legs. “You bet 
she is sly-kick! ” he cried, “ but she^s got to stop 
sly-kicking me on the shins or Ifll pull her hair 
again. I’ll pull every hair off her head and make 
her bald.” 




154 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


Elaine’s voice made a rapid descent from screams 
to whines. 

“ Mama, he’s making me have unkind thoughts. 
I don’t want to have unkind thoughts. I want to 
be a dear little lotus bud, a theossyphist! ” 

Flip broke away from Nancy’s restraining grasp 
and shook his hand in dangerous proximity to 
Elaine’s face. 

If you kick me again when we’re singing hymns 
or saying prayers, I won’t be a flossy flst,—I’ll hit 
you on your lotus bud nose,—so there! ” 

Elaine began to inhale a fresh supply of breath 
for her forthcoming scream, but she paused with 
gaping mouth to listen to her mother, who pro¬ 
ceeded to wash away the psychic disturbance with 
a heavy flow of verbiage. 

Mrs. Leavitt then seated herself in the circle, 
with Flip at her left and Elaine at her right, her 
lap forming a sort of no-man’s-land across which 
the two belligerents glared and grimaced at each 
other. 

My dear little lotus buds, sweet little blossoms 
of my soul’s garden,” began Mrs. Leavitt, I am 
unspeakably thrilled to see this circle of happy, 
smiling faces before me, this golden chain of love! 
My mental vision, which I have developed through 
study and meditation, is enchanted by your auras 
which I behold as a beautiful rainbow. I see Hazel 



The Lotus Group 


155 


in a pink glow, Flop is radiating yellow, Elaine is 
enveloped with, violet mist, and Eric is green. Yes, 
Eric is green! 

She smiled graciously on Eric Hertz, whose 
round, freckled face flamed into an embarrassed 
crimson which seemed to spread over his scalp and 
glow through his closely-cropped flaxen hair. The 
child shuffled uneasily, as though he were sitting 
on a tack and trying to conceal his martyrdom. A 
faint giggle enlivened the listless group. 

^^Yes, I behold this circle as a veritable rain¬ 
bow,^’ continued Mrs. Leavitt, a phenomenon 
which you are deterred from seeing, because your 
astral bodies have not yet established communica¬ 
tion with your physical bodies; but that will even¬ 
tuate. Now! who can tell me the name of the virtue 
which, during the past week, we have all been striv¬ 
ing to impress upon our souls, so that our charac¬ 
ters may rise to the summit of perfection? ” 

A broad smile of complacency beamed upon Mrs. 
Leavitt^s face as she paused for a reply. The chil¬ 
dren looked at one another doubtfully and shifted 
their cramped legs. Georgie Vance exclaimed in a 
plaintive whisper: Gee! iFs hot! 

Unselflshness! ’’ cried Flop triumphantly, when 
the meaning of Mrs. LeavitFs labored phrases had 
dawned upon her puzzled mind. 

Yes. Now, each of you in turn tell me how you 



156 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


have succeeded in inoculating your souls with this 
eminently desirable virtue. Let me hear of your 
^ little words of kindness, little deeds of love ’ that 
have helped you to ‘ make this earth an Eden like 
the Heaven above.’ ” 

With self-conscious blushes and hesitant speech, 
the children told of their efforts to live up to the 
prescribed virtue. Perhaps the most exalted act 
of self-sacrifice had been attained by Tommy Buell, 
who had allowed Georgie Vance to chew his gum 
for five minutes by the schoolroom clock. 

^^An’ I hadn’t chewed it myself more’n half an 
hour an’ Georgie let the teacher see him an’ she 
made him spit it into the rubbish-box an’ I couldn’t 
find it afterwards but I didn’t have unkind 
thoughts of Georgie or the teacher! ” 

Tommy’s unpunctuated speech was shirred on 
one breath which gave way suddenly, like the break¬ 
ing of a tightly-drawn gathering thread in a puck¬ 
ered ruffle. 

Mrs. Leavitt’s dissertation on the evils of gum- 
chewing was interrupted by Hazel Wiggins who, 
after several uneasy squirms, tearfully announced 
that Elaine was pinching her leg. 

“ I was not! ” snapped Elaine, and then she 
added sweetly, I was thinking a beautiful 
thought.” 

I am sure Elaine didn’t pinch you. Hazel,” said 



The Lotus Group 


157 


Mrs. Leavitt. She may have touched your leg 
unconsciously, and you misinterpreted her action; 
but there was no pinch in her mind when she 
touched you.” 

No! ” cried Flip, the pinch was in her fin¬ 
gers ! ” 

Mrs. Leavitt ignored this remark. We will now 
discuss our manifold sins and wickednesses. A 
cognizance of the misdemeanors of others enables 
us to shun the pitfalls which beset our path. We 
will begin with Flip.” 

There were blushing, reluctant admissions of 
childish faults from every one but Elaine, who 
beamed with self-satisfaction, exuding spiteful 
triumph. 

I’ve been a good girl all week and I’ve had kind 
thoughts about every one every day.” 

Mrs. Leavitt, with a doting glance at her daugh¬ 
ter, corroborated this astounding statement. 

Yes, Elaine has been a good little lotus bud, 
unfolding day by day, ^ all beautiful with the soul’s 
expansion.’ ” 

This was more than Flip’s sense of fairness and 
truth could stand. “What about her pinching 
Hazel’s leg and kicking me on the shins?” he de¬ 
manded, and his face was fired with a flush of 
indignation. 

“ Ah! ” Mrs. Leavitt turned to Flip, “ Elaine did 



158 "" The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


not mean to pinch or kick any one. Those trivial 
acts were but symptoms of the constant storm and 
stress within her soul, which is not yet adjusted to 
the restriction of her physical body. Elaine was 
only expressing her ego.’’ 

Flip was puzzled and unconvinced, but inter¬ 
ested. What’s an ego? ” 

It is the real you within yourself,—the shrine, 
of which your body is the temple.” 

I know! I know! ” cried Georgie Vance. “ It’s 
the tummick! ” 

“ No, Georgie, the stomach is merely a physical 
organ, the receptacle for food which is necessary 
for sustaining the body. The ego is the essence of 
the absolute individual. All say after me,—^ I must 
be true to my ego! ’” 

They said it. 

Flip thirsted for further information. How do 
you spell ego? ” 

E-G-0.” 

That’s the way I spell ^ egg ’! ” exclaimed Eric 
Hertz. Only I don’t put an ‘o’ on the end; but 
an egg is shaped like an ‘o.’” 

“ He-he! ” scoffed Elaine. “ Your egg’s bad. 
Good eggs have two ‘ g’s.’ He-he! ” 

Eric showed symptoms of a coming retort, but its 
expression was averted by Flip, who sought a clue 
that would lead him out of the labyrinth of his 



The Lotus Group 159 

puzzled tliouglits. “ What does ‘ be true to my ego ^ 
mean? ’’ 

It means not to suppress the impulses that stir 
your soul,—^to do whatever you feel constrained 
to do.’’ 

I see! ” Flip gave a smiling nod of understand¬ 
ing. If you always do what you want to do, 
you’re being true to your ego! ” 

But you must always be sure that what you 
want to do is right,” amended Mrs. Leavitt. 

Eric Hertz raised his hand. Please, Mrs. Leav¬ 
itt, whenever I play with Elaine she always wants 
her own way, an’ she gets it too, an’ my ego just 
never has a chance! I’d like to be true to my ego 
sometimes, but Elaine’s awful bossy when she plays. 
She’s got a selfish ego; she’s selfish, that’s what 
she is! ” 

No, Eric, it isn’t selfish for Elaine to want and 
insist on having her own way. Her character is 
abnormally developed by a tenacity of purpose 
which refuses to be swept aside by the conflicting 
desires of other people. It might be selfishness with 
other children; but, you see, Elaine is a born leader. 
Thousands of years ago she was probably a great 
ruler, a renowned general. Perhaps she was Julius 
Caesar! ” 

Gee! ain’t she old! ” said Georgie Vance in an 
awed, piercing whisper. 



160 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons"" 

Eric retired into an abashed silence with a wilted 
ego, looking as tbougb lie had been vanquished by 
Csesar^s legions. 

A mild game of blindman’s buff ensued, during 
which Elaine tripped on a rug and fell. Nancy 
rushed over to help her to her feet, and the child 
immediately screamed: 

Nancy pushed me and made me fall. I hate 
Nancy! 

That’s a lie! ” shouted Flip. Nancy wasn’t 
near you when you fell down. That’s a big lie! ” 

No, no! ” exclaimed Mrs. Leavitt, as she patted 
her darling’s shoulder consolingly. Elaine 
wouldn’t tell a lie. Her remark w^as merely a slight 
exaggeration.” She turned to Nancy. You see, 
her physical body is so delicately organized. Her 
nerves are situated very near the epidermis, which 
renders it supersensitive; so that a fall, or even the 
slightest tap, gives her astral body a psychic jar, a 
jolt that creates a disturbance of thought. Her 
mind could conceive no reason for falling, and so 
her surprise and pain caused her vivid imagination 
to grasp or formulate the idea that you had pushed 
her down, when in reality you had assisted her to 
regain her equilibrium.” 

Nancy smiled vaguely as she listened, and Mrs. 
Leavitt went on complacently. 

In a few weeks Elaine will be seven years old. 



The Lotus Group 


161 


Before tliat age the child^s soul is still adjusting 
itself to the physical body; and the imagination, 
groping into the inscrutable purpose of life, is apt 
to take psychic leaps into the unknown, which 
sometimes results in what the untutored call lying. 
By accusing Elaine of a lie. Flip, you have started 
the vibration of a lie in her mind. She is so sensi¬ 
tive to suggestions. But we will forget this un¬ 
pleasantness, which has caused a friction between 
your auras, by vibrating to beautiful thoughts. 

I will now announce the virtue for next weeFs 
study,—cheerfulness! You must all endeavor to be 
merry and bright under all circumstances. When 
'you have a toothache or a cut finger or fall down 
and hurt yourself, just smile and be happy. Scatter 
cheerfulness wherever you go, smile on every one 
you meet. We will now conclude our meeting with 
that dear little song which so perfectly describes 
our Lotus Group.’’ 

The children stood in a circle with clasped, per¬ 
spiring hands, and laggingly sang the following 
words to Nancy’s accompaniment: 

Happy little sunbeams darting through the blue, 

Even little sunbeams have a work to do. 

Shining at our brightest, we with radiance clad. 

Make this life a rainbow, make the great world glad.” 






CHAPTER XIV 


GUESSES AT HEAVEN 

The next day several Cassburn mothers met at 
the post-of6.ce and discussed the Lotus Group in 
Miss Louella^s Watch-and-Pry Corner. 

Miss Louella was engaged in distributing the 
mail, and was unable to join them; but she listened 
so attentively that she neglected to read the post¬ 
cards before putting them in the boxes to which 
they were addressed. 

‘‘ I ain^t goin^ to let my Georgie go to that Low- 
fuss Group no more,’^ announced Mrs. Vance. 

For a while it did seem to do him good, ITl say 
that. He’d weed the garden when he was told, an’ 
go to bed without a fit o’ temper, an’ he took his 
calomel calm-like, ’cause he said he wanted to tell 
at the Lowfuss Group that he was virtuous.” 

Just so,” agreed Mrs. Hertz. My Eric was so 
good an’ obedient at first that I didn’t know him. I 
thought, maybe, he was sickenin’ fer something, and 
I was kinda worried. But Lemuel said that so 
long’s he kept his color there was no need to get 
fussed up about it. But yesterday Mrs. Leavitt 
told my Eric that he was green! Xow, no mother 
is goin’ to stand fer that! Green! My Eric’s com¬ 
plexion is as good as any in Cassburn. Green! 

162 


Guesses at Heaven 


163 


It was jes’ tlie same way with Hazel/’ remarked 
Mrs. Wiggins, an’ I was glad an’ willin’ to have 
her belong to the Lowfuss Group, ’cause it kep’ her 
out o’ mischief an’ she always came home from the 
meetin’s neat an’ clean, which is what she never 
does when she goes to school or to a party. I never 
knew the like o’ her for wearin’ out shoes and gettin’ 
clothes torn an’ dirty! So, as I say, I thought it 
was a good thing for Hazel to be a Lowfusser. But, 
las’ night, at the end o’ her prayers she said, ‘ God 
bless my little ego.’ I asked her what she meant, 
but she didn’t seem to know what her little ego 
was, except that it was something inside her insides. 
As far as I could guess, Mrs. Leavitt’s been tellin’ 
her that it’s every one’s duty to lay an egg! I’m 
not goin’ to hev such crazy notions put in my child’s 
head. That ain’t the sort o’ religion for me an’ 
mine! ” 

You’ve said the very thing that’s in my mind,” 
declared Mrs. Vance. This morning Georgie 
wouldn’t eat his oatmeal. ^ I don’t like oatmeal,’ 
he says. ^I’ve got an ego inside o’ me, an’ Mrs. 
Leavitt says I must be true to my ego; an’ if I eat 
this oatmeal I’m not being true to my ego, ’cause 
me an’ my ego don’t like oatmeal.’ He wouldn’t 
tell me what his ego was. He jes’ kept on sayin’, 
‘I must be true to my ego.’ Now, Louella,” she 
turned to the postmistress who had joined the 



164 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


group in the bay-window, ^^you search the Scrip¬ 
tures an^ you’re filled with the grace o’ understand¬ 
ing. What is an ego? ” 

Miss Louella simpered and moistened her lips 
with the tip of her tongue. ‘^As you say, Polly 
Vance, I’m filled with the grace o’ understanding, 
an’ I’ve read the Holy Writ through twenty-three 
times, not even skipping the begats. But I’ve never 
come up against an ego in the Bible. It must be a 
kind o’ germ, that’s what. Germs is popular these 
days. An’ Mrs. Leavitt, who thinks she speaks 
with the lips o’ the wise that disperse knowledge, is 
so full o’ pride an’ vainglory that she would give a 
germ a fancy name an’ call it an ego.” 

Well,” Mrs. Vance’s voice was like the crack of 
a whip, ^^a child that is dosed regular with calo¬ 
mel like my Georgie is, couldn’t get no germs in his 
internals. I’ll say that. An’ I’m goin’ to give him a 
stiff dose to-night an’ get rid o’ that ego, if he has 
one. I won’t stand fer any woman sayin’ that my 
Georgie has anything inside o’ him! ” 

Just so,” purred Mrs. Hertz. 

^^I don’t believe in these fancy religions,” de- 
■ dared Miss Louella. The Holy Writ is a lamp 
unto my feet an’ a light unto my path, so I don’t 
think much o’ this Theosophy or that Esoteric So¬ 
ciety that Mrs. Leavitt belongs to an’ gets maga¬ 
zines an’ papers from every week; fillin’ up her 




Guesses at Heaven 


165 


letter-box with trasb, I say. The old-time religion^s 
good enough fer me.” 

Mrs. Leavitt’s religion may be all right when 
viewed from the Throne o’ Grace,” Mrs. Vance 
conceded magnanimously. ^^An’ I’m not sayin’ 
that she ain’t a handmaid o’ the Lord; but that’s as 
may be. I don’t believe in religious societies, any¬ 
how, an’ that hysteric society of Mrs. Leavitt’s ain’t 
fit an’ proper to my mind, if it teaches its members 
to put egoes inside o’ children, fillin’ them with 
germs folks never heard tell of.” 

There ain’t no mention of esoteric in the Holy 
Writ,” Miss Louella sniffed up her nasal dewdrop, 

an’ I couldn’t find the word in my little dictionary 
book. The nearest word like it was ^ enteric,’ which 
ain’t no name to give a religious society, I say. I’m 
mighty sure the Lord don’t favor these fancy re¬ 
ligions. As the Holy Writ says, beware o’ false 
prophets, an’ new brooms sweep clean; but that 
which seems a pillar o’ fire in the night of igno¬ 
rance is nothin’ but a cloud o’ dust by day, that’s 
what! ” 

Mrs. Talbot had remained silent throughout the 
debate, feeling like a solitary hen watching a group 
of ducks swimming about in a pool of discussion 
while she stood on the brink, wondering, puzzled, 
and not daring to thrust in a remark. She left the 
mothers on the steps of the post-office, where they 



166 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


lingered to hear the parting shots fired at Mrs. 
Leavitt by Mrs. Vance. 

jes^ step into Solomon Simpson^s an^ ask 
him over to supper/’ she said to herself as she 
V^alked along the street. “ Maybe he can tell me 
something ’bout these new religions, an’ then, when 
I hear folks talkin’ ’bout ’em. I’ll be able to pass a 
remark without showin’ off my ignorance. He 
knows something ’bout everything, Solomon does.” 

Her steps quickened as she imagined herself tak¬ 
ing part in an animated discussion, prefacing her 
remarks with the introductory phrase, Solomon 
Simpson says.” 

Solomon Simpson’s cottage stood in a little hol¬ 
low which seemed to have been scooped out of 
Maple Street. It was a low, casement-windowed 
dwelling, rather primitively built, and its gambrel 
roof gave it a pressed-down appearance. The walls 
were painted a pale yellow, and the shingles were 
stained with a motley of greens and browns, like a 
thatching of moss. 

Solomon had built the house himself, many years 
ago, and, while he worked, the girl who was to be¬ 
come his wife would sit with her sewing in a shady 
corner to watch him. They dreamed of a long, 
happy life together in their little home, but only a 
fragment of the dream was granted them. In less 
than two years Mary Simpson and her baby son 



Guesses at Heaven 


167 


were carried to tlie cliurcliyard. But the dreams 
they had shared together still lingered in Solomon’s 
heart, filling the place with memories that were as 
sweet and fragrant as the flowers in his garden. 

After thirty years, the house in the hollow was 
just as he and Mary had planned,—^homelike and 
flowery. A thick, closely-clipped cedar-hedge sepa¬ 
rated the garden from the street and a green gate, 
arched with a rose-trimmed trellis, opened onto a 
flower-fringed path leading to the door, over which 
was suspended the Shakespearean sign: 



Two old apple-trees, with rustic benches encir¬ 
cling their gnarled trunks, shaded the garden which 
was laid out with prim borders and beds of old- 
fashioned, sweet-smelling flowers. Gooseberry, 
currant, and raspberry-bushes, trimly supported by 
slender, green-painted sticks, mingled with clove- 
pinks, stocks, mignonette, lupins, pansies, roses, 
and larkspur. Here and there were little cedars, 
fantastically clipped, and vine-covered posts 



168 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 

crowned with bird-houses. A small mound of rocks 
and ferns held a bathing and drinking pool for 
Solomon’s feathered friends. The house and gar¬ 
den were quaint and charming, like a Kate Green¬ 
away illustration. 

The door was opened wide to breeze and sun¬ 
light, and Mrs. Talbot entered Solomon’s workshop 
without knocking. He looked up with a welcom¬ 
ing smile, its sincerity attested by the friendly 
gleam in his eyes. 

He was a small, slight man with a clear, rosy 
complexion, silvery hair, and soft, luminous blue 
eyes whose expression changed with his thoughts, 
now grave, now humorous, but alw^ays kind. 

A small, low table beside his bench held a three- 
volume edition of Shakespeare, one of which was 
opened at Portia’s Mercy speech, which Solomon 
was memorizing while he worked. 

Solomon, you read a lot,” began Mrs. Talbot, 
as she seated herself in a Windsor chair, an’ I’m 
wonderin’ if you can tell me ’bout this new-fangled 
religion that Mrs. Leavitt’s been teachin’ the chil¬ 
dren. Theosophy, it’s called.” 

Solomon, looking up from the shoe he was mend¬ 
ing, smiled and shook his head. Melissa, the only 
religion I know has no name. It is expressed in 
three short words,—^ God is love ’ ; and my homely 
wits are not given to exploring beyond that.” 




Guesses at Heaven 


169 


I vow it don^t seem right to me for folks to 
take up these queer religions/’ the woman volun¬ 
teered. “ They’re jes’ fads an’ notions, like doc¬ 
torin’ ; an’ every one thinks he has the only right 
idea, whether it’s religion or doctorin’. The dif¬ 
ferent kinds o’ doctorin’ seem to he jes’ guesses at 
curin’, an’ all the different religions are jes’ guesses 
at heaven. It must puzzle God a heap to see how 
people fuss an’ change. If folks’d all have one re¬ 
ligion an’ go to the same church, it’d save a lot o’ 
trouble an’ hard feelin’, I think.” 

There is some truth to be found in all of them,” 
remarked Solomon. They are all roads leading to 
the same goal.” 

^^Well, anyway, religion’s a puzzle ’nless you’re 
like Louella Greer, an’ have the Holy Writ at your 
tongue’s end to give you a sure feelin’ o’ bein’ right, 
whatever you think or say. You might drop over 
to supper to-night, Solomon. John an’ me’d be 
glad to hev you; an’ I’ll make a batch o’ scones, 
that you like so much.” 

Thank you, Melissa, I’ll come with pleasure.” 

We’ll expect you early,” said the simple, kind- 
hearted woman as she passed out the door. 

Solomon’s hands lay idly on his leather apron, 
as he gazed abstractedly through the open window 
near his bench. The tall hollyhocks, with their 
frilled blossoms bursting from the tight, green buds. 



170 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons"" 


swayed in tlie breeze, as tbougb nodding at Mm to 
attract bis attention; but Solomon’s thoughtful 
eyes were fixed on the sky where soft, white clouds 
were slowly drifting towards the west to attend a 
sunset convention. 

You’re right, Melissa,—religion’s a puzzle,” he 
murmured. 

^ So many Gods, so many creeds, 

So many paths that wind and wind. 

When just the art of being kind 
Is all this sad world needs.’ ” 



CHAPTER XV 


CONCERNING SUSAN 

The Sunday evening service was ended and tlie 
congregation, dispersing in small groups, passed 
through, the churchyard to the street. 

Daylight still lingered in the sky, although the 
west was strewn with pink cloud-fleeces, loosened 
petals scattered by the sun which had faded like a 
crimson rose. The churchyard sloped to the shore, 
where the waves crept in gently with a sound as of 
deep-drawn sighs. 

Nancy had come to church alone, and now she 
lingered in the peaceful churchyard. Its solemn 
stillness,’’ filled with the mysterious hush that 
comes between the daylight and the dark, made the 
world and its worries seem far away. She sat on 
the grass beside her mother’s grave, over which a 
thick growth of ivy had woven a tapestry of sombre 
green. 

Grass-muffled footsteps behind her caused her to 
turn quickly, and her face brightened with a smile 
of welcome when she saw Susan Avery approach¬ 
ing. 

I hope I didn’t startle you, Nancy.” 

Just for a second. People seldom loiter here 
at this hour, but I love it. Sit down, Susan.” 

171 


172 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


I saw you sitting here, and I hoped you 
wouldn^t mind if I joined you/^ Susan’s voice was 
wistful. 

I’m glad you came.” Nancy laid her hand on 
Susan’s arm with a friendly pressure, as the girl 
sat down beside her. 

Susan Avery was twenty-six, but her small, 
nimble body, straight and slim as a boy’s, made her 
appear much younger. Her head Avas proudly 
poised on her slender neck, as though to balance 
the weight of her luxuriant hair which had the 
glossy tint of a ripe chestnut. Her clear olive com¬ 
plexion was warmed with a glow of rose in her 
cheeks, and her dark brown eyes held the plead¬ 
ing, wondering expression of a shy, wistful child 
who feels unwanted and unloved. 

Louella Greer once remarked, Susan has the 
makin’s of a beauty, an’ she’d be a real pretty girl 
if her face wasn’t spoiled with a harelip.” 

Poor Susan was sensitive and given to brooding 
morbidly over her disfigurement, which had made 
her the butt of her schoolmates’ ridicule when a 
child, and had filled her life with the misery of 
balked ambition. Her determination to become a 
school-teacher had helped her to rise above the 
degradation of her poverty-ridden home and shift¬ 
less family. 

By working in a boarding-house at Bradbury, 



Concerning Susan 


173 


slie liad managed to attend the high school for four 
years, passing all her examinations with honors; 
but when she applied for a country school the in¬ 
spector bluntly told her that she was disqualified 
for teaching. 

I don’t see as how I c’d appoint ye to teach at 
Gardendale,” he said, as he pared his nails with 
his pocket-knife. The children’d be thinkin’ more 
of yer twisted lip than their lessons. Yer record as 
a stoodent is fine; but, with a teacher, the dis¬ 
cipline’s the great thing. An’ how’d ye ever keep 
the discipline among scholars that’re makin’ jokes 
’bout yer face? Learnin’ ain’t nothin’, ’thout the 
discipline! ” 

Susan winced. “ But, Mr. Simpkins, after a time 
the pupils would become used to my scarred lip. 
I’m fond of children, and they like me. I am sure 
I could win their respect and obedience in spite of 
my—disfigurement. Please give me a chance, Mr. 
Simpkins! I’ll try so hard! ” 

Hosea Simpkins closed his knife with a click 
which sounded to Susan like a key being turned in 
the door that shut her out from the attainment of 
her heart’s desire. 

It’d be too risky. It don’t do to put girls an’ 
boys under a teacher they c’n make fun of. A 
teacher’s face goes a long way to-wards the dis¬ 
cipline. I’ve been inspector o’ schools in this dis- 



174 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


trict fer nineteen years, an’ I know what I’m talkin’ 
’bout. The discipline’s the great thing! ” 

So Susan became a dressmaker, and was now 
employed in the establishment of Madame Ger¬ 
aldine Foy at Bradbury. Most of her salary was 
contributed to the support of her family who lived 
in Cassburn; but her sacrifice earned no gratitude 
or affection from her father and stepmother and 
their brood of children. 

Silas Avery was idle and shiftless, given to 
lounging near the kitchen stove in winter, smok¬ 
ing his pipe, bemoaning his ill-luck, and declaring 
himself a victim of life’s ^^mean cussedness.” In 
the summer he would doze in a hammock crudely 
made of barrel-staves, which hung under a chestnut- 
tree in the untidy front yard. He neglected his 
small farm. The fields, overgrown with weeds, 
yielded scant harvests; the orchard was seldom 
pruned or sprayed, and no young trees were planted 
to replace the old ones that gradually gave up their 
yearly struggle to blossom and bear fruit. The 
rotting fences were seemingly held together by a 
luxuriant growth of poison ivy, which the neigh¬ 
bors execrated in good set terms when the pestif¬ 
erous vine invaded their premises. 

“ Silas Avery hed a failin’ out with work when 
he was young, an’ they ain’t been on speakin’ terms 
since,” Jim Deane once observed. He’s a mem- 




Concerning Susan 


175 


ber 0^ the Do-nothin^ Club, whose motto is ‘ Eest ’; 
only they ought to spell it,—R-U-S-T. At the sight 
of a chair Silas gets weakenin’ o’ the spine, so he 
has to sit down, an’ he’s ’most ready fer being 
the world’s champion in sleeping sickness.” 

Mrs. Avery was a patent medicine fiend. Sev¬ 
eral shelves in a small shed adjoining the kitchen 
were filled with empty bottles and pill-boxes, ghosts 
of the various concoctions she had taken from time 
to time. She had a library of advertising booklets, 
and spent many hours in reading descriptions of 
diseases, glowing with satisfaction when she recog¬ 
nized her own imaginary symptoms, and gloating 
over the testimonials from suffering women report¬ 
ing miraculous cures of their ailments, of which 
they gave intimate details. 

Every Saturday afternoon Susan walked home 
from Bradbury, sacrificing her free time to the 
needs of the sordid household. She would do the 
week’s washing and then attack the accumulation 
of dirty dishes in the slimy, greasy sink. Supper 
was followed by a wholesale bathing of the chil¬ 
dren. Then the bread was mixed and set to rise, 
and the clothes were brought in to be sprinkled and 
folded. Sundays were devoted to ironing, house¬ 
cleaning, baking, and mending. Mrs. Avery never 
offered to help her stepdaughter. She would rock 
back and forth in a creaking chair, her whining 



176 The Good’for-Nothing Graysons _ 

voice bewailing ber invalidism and ber inability to 
afford an operation. 

In stormy weather, Jim Deane and bis Peace 
Ship always appeared at tbe Avery gate on Sunday 
evenings. 

I’m jes’ runnin’ over to Bradbury, Susan,” be 
would say in bis offband manner, an’ I tbougbt 
maybe you’d like a lift.” 

Grateful Susan recognized tbe kindly subter¬ 
fuge and wisely played up to it. In bis youtb Jim 
bad been engaged to Susan’s mother, until a foolish 
lovers’ quarrel separated them and pretty, vain Sue 
Gardiner, in a fit of spiteful independence, married 
Silas Avery. 

Silas, in those days, was looked upon as a model 
young man. He was handsome in a big, blond way, 
cheerful and easy-going, and never smoked or drank 
a social glass. Jim bad a temper which blazed up 
like the fire in bis forge. He also resembled tbe 
fire in bis habit of smoking, and be was known to 
enter tbe saloon at Bradbury for a “ nip o’ cheer.” 
Sue’s objections to Jim’s harmless indulgences 
goaded him into a display of temper that ended 
their engagement; and, before be bad cooled off 
sufficiently to seek a reconciliation, she was wear¬ 
ing Silas Avery’s wedding-ring. 

Two years later, Jim stood alone in tbe rain and 
mud beside ber freshly-turned grave and vowed, in 



Concerning Susan 


177 


lier memory, that he would look out for the baby 
Susan she had left behind. 

Within a year Silas had married again, and the 
neglected home was quickly filled with noisy, dirty, 
uncared-for children. 

Little Susan would have fared badly without the 
shy but determined kindnesses of Jim Deane. 
When she was a few months old he took her to 
Boston and paid all expenses at the hospital, where 
a successful operation was performed on her hare¬ 
lip. He saw to it that she was properly clothed 
and sent to school regularly; and he compelled her 
father, who had no sympathy with the girPs am¬ 
bition, to allow her to attend the Bradbury high 
* 

school. 

Sitting here like this seems to give my soul a 
bath,’’ Susan said to Nancy after a long silence. 

I hate dressmaking! It is torture to sit day after 
day, always sewing; and the week’s work leaves 
me feeling dusty and wrinkled. Then I come home 
and find the place like a pigsty. Every week it is 
the same old hopeless grind! Father is too lazy 
and indifferent to care, and Mother’s only interest 
in life is imagining she has a new disease and wish¬ 
ing she could afford an operation. This week she 
thinks she has either cancer of the stomach or an 
abscess on the brain; and last week she was sure 
she was going to die of floating kidneys. 



178 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


“I took her to see Doctor Gordon last winter. 
He was very abrupt with her,—^you know his way. 
He told her that there was nothing wrong with 
her; that the only medicine she needed was a daily 
dose of housework. As a result of the interview 
she had nervous prostration for two weeks.’’ 

Poor old Susan! ” murmured Nancy. I think 
you do too much for your family. Let them shift 
for themselves for a change! It would do them 
good to have their selfishness jolted. You’re en¬ 
titled to some fun.” 

Fun! ” echoed Susan. In my ‘ lexicon of 
youth ’ there’s no such word as ^ Fun.’ I never have 
any pleasures like other girls, who have friends to 
take them to dances and movies. I’m so ugly that 
no man would think of taking me anywhere. I’ve 
missed all the good things of life, and now I’m 
twenty-six,—^an old maid! ” 

‘^You aren’t ugly!” protested Nancy. ‘^Your 
coloring is lovely,—^hair, eyes, and complexion. 
You’re a ^nut-brown mayde.’ But you are so 
sensitive about that scar on your lip that you 
appear reserved and stand-offish with people who 
would like to be friendly, so they let you alone. 
Take my advice, Susan. Shirk your family for a 
while. Spend your money on some pretty clothes, 
and go out and mix with people! ” 

Susan sighed. ‘‘ For over a year I’ve cherished a 



Concerning Susan 


179 


little dream, a foolisli bit of pretending; and now, 
—^well, I’m going to tell you about it. I’ve been an 
awful fool, ^^^ancy. 

During the War, I did a lot of knitting for the 
Red Cross. All the girls at Madame Foy’s used to 
write their names and addresses on slips of paper, 
which they sewed on the inside of the socks. I did 
it once, and, about sixteen months ago I had a let¬ 
ter from a soldier in France, thanking me for the 
socks and asking if I would write to him. He said 
he hadn’t any relatives or friends to send him let¬ 
ters; and he’d like to hear now and again from 
the U. S. A. It was a friendly, boyish letter, and 
he seemed lonely.” 

Did you write? ” 

Yes, and we’ve been corresponding regularly 
since then. He is Sergeant Tom McGillicuddy, 
twenty-eight years old. He owns a ranch out West, 
miles from anywhere. After we had exchanged a 
few letters he asked me to send him my photograph, 
but I was afraid to. I enjoyed his letters so much, 
and I thought if he knew how ugly I was he 
wouldn’t write any more. So'I bought a picture of 
a pretty movie actress,—her name was Claire 
Adams—and mailed it to him. 

“ He sent me such a nice letter of thanks; said 
I was such a peach that he was afraid to send me 
a copy of his mug. He’s quite slangy, but I liked 



180 The Good-for‘Nothing Graysons 


his breezy expressions. Oh, I wish I hadn’t sent 
that picture! ” 

Susan cried quietly for a few minutes. Then she 
rose, extending a hand to Nancy. 

“ It’s getting dark, and it’s time I started back 
to Bradbury. I’ll tell you the rest as we walk along 
the street.” 

The sky was gloomed with night-clouds, and fire¬ 
flies were flitting under the trees, dotting the 
darkness with their transient gleams. Lights shone 
from several windows, sending shafts of yellow" 
radiance into the dewy, fragrant gardens. Occa¬ 
sionally, they met youthful couples strolling arm in 
arm under the wdde-spreading chestnut-trees. 

They’re happy,” whispered Susan, as they 
passed an amatory pair. Their love-making may 
be silly, but at least it is real. My romance, if you 
can call it that, was just a foolish pretend, the sort 
of thing a silly girl of sixteen might indulge in; 

but Tom liked my letters, and I- Oh! I can’t 

tell you, Nancy, how eagerly I looked for his, until 
he began to write about returning to America. He 
said he was coming to Bradbury to meet me; be¬ 
cause, if I was the sort of girl he imagined I wms 
from reading my letters, he wanted to know me 
personally and get better acquainted. He had 
never had a girl friend before. 

The other day I had a card from him. He had 




Concerning Susan 


181 


just landed in New York and was going to Camp 
Mills. Ok, Nancy! I want to see kmi, but I’m 
afraid to I I don’t want kim to come to Bradbury 
and find out kow I ckeated kim over tkat picture I 
He is tke only boy friend I ever kad, and wken ke 
sees me, ke will despise me. Ok, wkat skall I do? ” 
If I were you, I’d write and fess up.” Nancy 
linked ker arm in Susan’s. Tken ke can please 
kimself about coming; and, if ke does come, you 
needn’t be afraid to meet kim.” 

‘‘ I tried to do tkat. I wrote about a dozen let¬ 
ters, but I hadn’t tke courage to send tkem. I tore 
tkem up.” 

By tkis time, tkey kad reached the corner of 
Cedar Street. 

Aren’t you afraid to walk along tkat dark road 
by yourself?” asked Nancy, glancing along tke 
Bradbury highway. 

“ No, I know every inch of it, I’ve tramped it so 
often. Besides, tke moon will soon be up. It has 
done me good to talk to you, Nancy. I felt I must 
tell some one. I wish I kad brought some of Tom’s 
letters for you to read. I’ve kept tkem all. Tkey 
are so jolly and friendly, and not a bit musky. He 
likes reading, and ke has read all my favorite books ; 
and he’s fond of music. He has a Victrola at kis 
home, and says ke fills tke lonely evenings out on 
kis ranch with music; winds up his ^tune-box,’ as 



182 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


lie calls it, and puts on Caruso and Kreisler records. 
Oh, I wish—but it’s no use! One look at me will 
be enough for him! ” 

Buck up, Susan! Let him come to Bradbury, 
and don’t be shy about meeting him. Pretend you 
don’t care a hang whether he likes you or not, and 
treat the whole affair as a joke. Let him get to 
really know you as I do. Then, if he does like you 
and you like him,—invite me to your wedding! 
You’re a splendid girl, Susan. And don’t forget,— 
‘ beauty is only skin deep.’ ” 

^ But ugliness goes to the bone,’ ” finished 
Susan in dismal tones. Good-night, Nancy.” 

Nancy scurried down the shadowy road. At the 
gate she paused to glance wistfully at the house 
next door, all dark and silent, no light in the up¬ 
stairs den, and no music filling the night with en¬ 
chantment. 

She began to hum a faint minor tune, a wisp of 
a melody like sighs set to music. Then, as she 
strolled along the path to the house, the words were 
woven into the little song. 

‘ Oh, love, love, love! 

Love is like a dizziness. 

That winna let a poor body 
Gang aboot his business.’ ” 



CHAPTER XVI 


JOAN’S CONFESSION 

Harry and Joan liad been swimming out to Lion 
Rock and back, burrowing tbeir way tbrougb the 
leaping waves, and now they threw themselves on 
the hot sand, breathless and exhausted with fight¬ 
ing the undercurrent of the outgoing tide. Harry 
lay on his back, his sunburnt arms and legs out¬ 
stretched, and Joan was sprawling beside him, her 
elbows embedded in the sand and her hands sup¬ 
porting her chin. 

Say—er—Jo—Ann,” Harry’s hesitation showed 
that he was approaching his subject warily, what’s 
biting Xancy these days? You must have noticed 
that she’s been looking awfully spinked lately. 
What’s the matter with her? Put me wise.” 

There’s nothing the matter with her,—you’re 
loony. Xancy’s all right.” 

She isn^t all right. She’s off her feed and looks 
peckish. If you weren’t such a bat-eyed chump, 
you’d see it yourself. Monica told me this morn¬ 
ing that she’s caught Xancy three times lately dew¬ 
ing her pillow with tears at night. I wonder if— 
she’s in love! ” 

Xancy in love?” Joan sat up. ‘^Oh, you’ve 

183 



184 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


gone cuckoo! Tkere isn’t any one for lier to be in 
love with!/’ 

^^Well/’ Harry also sat up and began to bury 
his legs in sand, what about—Captain Dick? ” 

‘^Captain Dick? Huh! your headlight’s gone 
out. Light up and think again,” sneered Joan. 

He seemed awfully gone on her before he went 
away, and he hasn’t written to any of us since he 
left, except those cards he sent to Monica and the 
twins from Newport. Looks queer to me.” 

Pooh! ” scoffed Joan. 

Pooh to you!” returned Harry. ^^You know 
Nancy and Captain Dick were great pals. I often 
noticed him looking at her like a sick fish, and the 
sight of him always set her eyes dancing. Some¬ 
thing’s happened to switch him off the track. Help 
me dope it out.” 

^‘My sowl to glory!” Joan gave an admirable 
imitation of Oonah’s favorite exclamation. “ I 
didn’t think it was serious! I thought he was just 
fooling with Nance because she was the only girl 
in sight. Louella Greer said that every one thought 
Nancy. was running after him, and he seemed 
mighty hard to catch; and I felt that perhaps it 
was true, and he was laughing at Nance, thinking 
her a bally little idiot. So I reeled off a mile of 
fibs to him about her being engaged to some chap 
in Abyssinia or somewhere. I told him that her 



Joan*s Confession 


185 


guileless innocence was a trick for fooling men; 
tkat ske was a regular little flirt-fiend. I didn’t 
want kim to tkink tkat ske was ^ a violet by a mossy 
stone,’ just waiting for kim to pick and tkrow 
away.” 

Slow music and a soft place for me to fall! ” 
groaned Harry. Wkat did ke say to tkat? Did 
ke clutck kis keart and roll kis eyes to keaven?” 

He didn’t say muck, and I didn’t look at kim. 
I pretended I was talking to kim tkrougk a tele- 
pkone. I can’t lie wken I look at people; but 
telephones were invented to make lying easy. I 
remember now, ke went away tke very next day, 
sneaked off and missed Nancy’s birtkday-party. 
Do you tkink ke really cared? Ok, my eye! I’ve 
made a mess of it! ” 

You sure kave,” agreed Harry. Of course ke 
cared! Tkat’s wky ke turned snooty and rusked 
off to Newport where he’s probably drooling love- 
talk to some razzle-dazzle society-girl, while 
Nancy’s breaking her keart and letting something 
or other feed on her damask cheek like a worm in 
the bud. You’ve blighted your sister’s life! There’s 
a kook for you to hang your hat on.” 

You’ve got cobwebs in your attic, sneeze and 
blow them away! ” snapped Joan. Anyway, if 
they’re really and truly in love, there’s no harm 
done. I can easily set things right. I’ll write to 



186 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


Captain Dick and tell Mm that tke man in Tierra 

del Fuego is dead, and-’’ 

Tierra del Fuego? You said at first it was 
Abyssinia,’’ corrected Harry. 

“ Did I? I know I didn’t tell Captain Dick that 
it was Abyssinia. I’m sure I didn’t. I’ve forgotten 
where I said the tiresome man was. Oh, well, it 
doesn’t matter; he’s dead, anyway. I’m going to 
kill him, have him murdered, and eaten by canni¬ 
bals.” 

That listens fine! ” declared Harry. Do you 
think Captain Dick will swallow a yarn like that? 
Who’s loony now? ” 

Joan flushed with vexation. ^‘Why not? He 
swallowed the other story easily enough. Why 
should he choke on this one? If he’s really in love 
with Nancy he’ll come back licketty-split when he 
hears that the other fellow is dead; and he’ll ap¬ 
preciate her all the more if he thinks she had a 
chance of marrying some one else. It does a man 
good to learn that he isn’t the only star in the sky. 
Men are all so conceited, especially about girls be¬ 
ing in love with them.” 

Harry kicked away the sand in which he had 
buried his legs and stood up. “It’s a dead cert 
that you’re a lulu,” he said with commiserating 
scorn. “ Your stupid meddling and muddling has 
put Nancy’s romance on the blink, so it’s up to you 




Joan's Confession 


187 


to square tlie whole caboodle and set things right. 
Do it your own way; but here’s a piece of advice 
to paste on your brain,—^ Mind your own busi¬ 
ness ! ’ ” 

Two days later Dick received a letter from Joan, 
which caused him to break away from Mrs. Seaton’s 
entangling net of social engagements. He swamped 
his hostess’s remonstrances with voluble excuses, 
summoning many fibs to his aid in giving plausible 
reasons for his hasty departure. 

Then, with hurried wholesale orders at a florist’s 
and confectioner’s, he buried half a dozen summer 
flirtations beneath a bushel of roses and a ton of 
chocolates. Charming, regretful notes of farewell 
were sent with the roses and chocolates to a group 
of society belles with whom he had danced and 
dallied in brilliant ballrooms, dimly-lighted con¬ 
servatories, and on moonlit decks. 

To him these fashionable girls were all alike, liv¬ 
ing for the excitement of the hour and craving con¬ 
stant diversion in their search for pleasure. They 
had all the parlor tricks of coquetry, sham demure¬ 
ness and challenging smiles. Surrounded by an at¬ 
mosphere of little conventional lies, they lived a 
showcase existence, slavishly obeying the whims of 
dressmakers, modifying their flgures and their gait 
in their submission to the tyranny of fashion. 
They were young, but their youth was contradicted 



188 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


and robbed of encbantment by the sophisticated 
boredom written in their eyes. 

How different they were from Nancy, the shabby 
little Cinderella! Her eyes had the innocent candor 
of a child, with glints of mischief when she smiled. 
She wore no mask of conventional politeness to 
hide her varying moods; they flitted over her face 
in sweet alternation from grave to gay, making him 
long to kiss the dimple that lurked in the corner 
of her smiles or the little perplexed frown that 
sometimes ruffled her forehead. Winsome Nancy! 
The thought of her sent his heart soaring like a 
singing lark. 

During the journey to New York he frequently 
glanced at Joan’s letter, his face puckered into 
comic wonderment over her ill-formed writing 
which was interspersed with dashes, blots, and 
erasures, which she had made by rubbing a finger 
over the deleted words. By the time he reached 
New York he had practically memorized the fol¬ 
lowing rambling epistle which had brought heaven 
down to earth. 

My dear Captain Dick : 

Sometime, somewhere, somebody—I sup¬ 
pose it was a Pope—said that confession was good 
for the soul. So, pretend you are a Padre and hear 
me confess. 

Imagine me draped in sackcloth and smeared 




Joan's Confession 


189 


with ashes, while two scorpions—remorse and 
anguish—are stinging, biting, or tickling my soul. 
I’m not certain what it is that scorpions do; but 
they are doing it to me, and my soul feels awfully 
uncomfortable. 

What I told you about our Nancy being a flirt 
and being engaged to some chap in Madagascar or 
Siberia—or wherever he was—^was a figment of my 
imagination. She isn’t a flirt, and she never was 
or will be engaged, unless you hurry back and pro¬ 
pose to her before she dies of a broken heart. 

The reason I fibbed to you was this: I was 
hopping mad over something that old hag-cat, 
Louella Greer, said about your being slow in pro¬ 
posing to Nancy, although she was running after 
you and trying to annex you. Now, you were slow 
in proposing, you must admit that; and I thought 
you were a heart-trapper, amusing yourself with 
Nancy, leading her on to fall for you. So I decided 
to put your game to the bad. 

Harry says you are a decent sort, and I have 
the same idea in my think-box. He says you are 
loony with love for Nancy and she’s got a weak 
heart over you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have 
sneaked off the way you did, and she wouldn’t look 
droopy and wilted, like a flag at half-mast. 

^^We all miss you dreadfully, especially our 
Nancy. She doesn’t say so, but she has the air of 
one who has looked into the depths of life and 
found it a hollow thing. Last night she sat at the 
piano, like the picture of Saint Cecilia with fat 
little angels chucking roses down from heaven, and 
played Chopin Nocturnes—worm-eaten, lovesick 
tunes—for over an hour. By the time she had fin¬ 
ished, and she had ended with the long, dreary 



190 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


wKine of the Funeral March, I was covered with 
mildew. 

^‘Do come back soon, there’s a dear old thing! 
If l!^ancy turns snooty about your going off the way 
you did, you can square the whole gazookas by 
telling a few lies. As the poets say, ^ All’s fair in 
love and war ’ and ^ It’s better to have loved and 
lied, etc.’ So, go to it, old dear! 

After you’ve popped the question, we’ll all be 
awfully tactful and considerate. At your approach 
we’ll fade out of the picture, and we’ll whistle when 
we come along the hall, and cough or sneeze before 
opening doors. Our home will be a Lovers’ Para¬ 
dise, so you and J^Tancy can be as spoony and loony 
as you like. 


Yours considerably. 


Joan.” 



CHAPTER XVII 


A LOVER AND HIS LASS 

Dick traveled from New York to Cassburn in 
bis automobile; and tbe speedometer, dizzyingly 
recording bis mileage, apparently registered bis 
cardiac pulsations as well. Except for a few miles, 
when be was obliged to proceed warily tbrougb 
splashing mud and rain-pools during a brief, violent 
thunderstorm, bis journey was a flagrant violation 
of speed laws. 

It was mid-afternoon when be reached bis des¬ 
tination. Tbe village wore a deserted air, as though 
all its inhabitants were dozing behind closed doors 
and shutters. He slowed down to an easy pace 
imder the trees of Chestnut Street, like a person 
cautiously entering a sickroom and fearful of dis¬ 
turbing a sleeping patient. 

The automobile nosed its way down the narrow, 
winding road of Cedar Street and glided between 
the stone pillars of the gates of Cedarwold. Dick^s 
approaching signal of three short honks brought 
Xoki to the door just as the car came to a stand¬ 
still before the steps. 

For a moment the Jap’s bland smile was wiped 
out by a look of astonishment as he exclaimed over 
Dick’s grimy, unshaven appearance. 

191 


192 lOhe Good-for-Notliing Graysons 


Muddy tlip! Bloss needs sclaping! 

Then the smile returned as he added, ‘‘ Bloss 
come black,—much obliged! 

hot bath, Noki, and a clean outfit.’’ Dick 
emerged from his mud-encrusted coat like a snake 
sloughing its skin. 

And blite to eat,—bloss hungly? ” 
i^'o time to eat. I’m in a hurry.” 

In twenty minutes Dick was ascending the sag¬ 
ging steps of the Graysons’ verandah. His hurried 
jerk of the bell snapped the wire, and when he re¬ 
leased the handle it dropped to the floor and rolled 
down the steps. 

The doors and windows were wide open, but there 
was no sign of life about the place; house and gar¬ 
den seemed to be sunk in deep slumber, like the 
castle of the Sleeping Beauty. No one came in 
response to his vehement knocking. He entered the 
hall and glanced about. It was shadowy and cool, 
a refuge for flowery breezes from the brazen heat 
outside. A bee hovered with drowsy murmuring 
over the table where a bunch of sweet peas was 
cradled in a flat green bowl. 

Dick whistled. There was no reply, only a louder 
buzzing from the bee. 

“Where the deuce has every one gone?” he ex¬ 
claimed impatiently. Then he called aloud. 

“Harry! Joan! Isay,—is any one at home? ” 



A Lover and His Lass 


193 


Silence! He went througli tlie long hall and 
opened a door, starting back as a hot, withering 
blast greeted him from the Idtchen where Oonah 
was ironing. Lines strung across the room were 
hung with crisp, freshly-ironed clothes. The top of 
the stove, where the irons were clustered, glowed a 
dull red, and, at the back, a large iron kettle was 
spouting clouds of steam and spitting bubbles of 
water which hissed and spluttered on the stove. 

God bliss the day! Is it Captain Hick or his 
ghost I’m seeing? ” 

Where’s the family? ” he inquired. 

^^Hivil the fill av an eye have I seen av thim 
since dinner. Joan an’ Harry’s down on the shore 
swimmin’ an’ clammin’; Monica’s in the garden 
somewheres; an’ thim little hell-raisers, the twins, 
is off to the divil knows where.” 

<iEr—where’s Miss—er—where’s ^ancy?” 

My sowl to glory! What’s the matter wid yer 
face? Is it fightin’you’ve been? An’how’d it hap¬ 
pen that a man wid a physick loike yours’d let an¬ 
other feller make mince mate av his face? You 
look loike a map av the City av Dublin afther a Sinn 
Fein rebellyun, there’s divil a doubt av that! Yer 
face’d make a good sign fer a butcher’s shop.” 

I shaved in a hurry and cut myself. Where’s 
Nan-? ” 

Shure it’ll take a mile av court plasther to mind 




194 The Good-for^Nothing Graysons '' 


tliat face; an^ whin it’s done you’ll have a camniy- 
flagged face loike the battleships in the War.” 

Where’s Nancy? ” asked Dick in desperation. 

Oh, it’s Nancy you’re wantin’, an’ where is she? 
Well, she’s gone over to rade aloud from the news¬ 
papers to old Mr. Wiggins, an’, maybe, she’s cornin’ 
back now along the cliff-path. The poor man’s 
eyesight is failin’ an’ his folks is too busy to rade 
to him. So Nancy goes over wance a week to rade 
’bout politics an’ accidents, an’ murders, an’-” 

At the mention of the cliff-path Dick left the 
Idtchen, making his exit through the back door; 
and Oonah’s garrulity ended abruptly when, see¬ 
ing him rush past the window, she realized that he 
had deserted her. 

A divil av a hurry he’s in, runnin’ out wid me 
worruds trailin’ afther him loike a piece av string 
caught on one av his buttons an’ unwindin’ from a 
ball in me hand.” 

Dick, in his eagerness to reach the cliff-path and 
meet Nancy on the way home, scorned the usual 
route through the Cedarwold gardens and thence 
along the shore. He went through the back yard 
and vaulted the stone wall which separated it from 
Lemuel Hertz’s orchard, disregarding the sign, No 
Trespassing.” 

A narrow path followed the irregular, jagged 
outline of the sandy cliffs, beneath which lay the 




A Lover and His Lass 


195 


shore where the waves crept in among the boulders 
and receded with a grating sound of pebbles. The 
fields were a shimmering green under the golden 
glance of the sun, dappled with moving shadows 
cast by the white, woolly clouds that drifted across 
the vivid blue sky. 

Feathery grasses, fringing the path, clutched at 
the buckles of Nancy’s shoes as she walked, and 
powdered her feet with seeds. Presently she left 
the path and waded through a thick growth of 
sweet fern, which clothed a gently rising slope, to 
a group of hoary pines that crowned its summit. 
The lichened, gray-brown trunks of the trees were 
jeAveled with amber beads of oozing resinous gum, 
and a brisk, salty breeze stirred among their plumed 
branches, letting thin gleams of sunlight sift 
through the green dusk. 

Nancy stood, hat in hand, on the springy, dusty 
carpet of pine-needles and gazed across the sea 
which mirrored the sky with sparkles of the sun. 
The world about her, waves, wind, and sunlight, 
seemed to be dancing joyously; but her jaded spirits 
refused to keep in step with nature’s march of 
triumph. 

Dick had seen her climb through the sweet fern, 
and had hastened across the intervening fields and 
swampy meadows. He now approached her ea¬ 
gerly, his footsteps making no noise on the padded 



196 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 

ground until the exposed, snakelike roots of a tree 
caused him to stumble. 

She turned quickly, dropping her hat. 

Captain Dick! ’’ her face flushed beneath his 
eager, ardent gaze. “ I thought you were in New¬ 
port. When did you get back? ” 

was in Newport, but I couldn’t stay away 
from you any longer, Nancy. I got back half an 
hour ago, and I rushed here to And you. Nancy, 
I-” 

I’m hurrying home,” she declared. This is 
Oonah’s busy day and I promised to get supper 
ready.” 

“ Oh, blow the supper! It can wait.” 

^^But the family’s hungry appetites can’t,” she 
protested, as he seized her hand in a firm, detain¬ 
ing grasp. I must go.” 

You must stay! I’ve scaled a stone wall, I’ve 
trespassed in an orchard, I’ve tramped through a 
bog to reach you. Look at my muddy feet! ” 
^^Yes,” her roguish smile became audible in a 
low, musical laugh, “ I’m looking at your muddy 
feet,—they’re both on my hat! ” 

“ And your feet, Nancy, are on my—^heart! ” 
There followed an impetuous rush of words from 
his lips, as he held her closely in his arms. Nancy, 
with her freedom from pretense and coquetry, was 
simply and transparently happy. She had never 




A Lover and His Lass 


197 


seemed so adorably lovely as now, when she nestled 
in his arms with the confiding surrender and win¬ 
some wonderment of a child. 

Gulls swooped by, wheeling in circles, dipping 
and rising, and uttering shrill cries. 

Those birds are crying shame upon us for be¬ 
ing so foolish,^’ she chuckled. I must go home, I 
really must, Dick! 

May I come for supper? I’ll help you to get 
it ready, and it will be the best supper your family 
ever ate. Let me come! ” he urged. 

No, no! ” she shook her head. I don’t want 
them to guess our secret so soon. Let’s hide it in 
our hearts until-” 

To-morrow, no longer! ” he finished. I want 
every one to know. Shall we drop in on Miss 
Louella in the morning and receive her blessing 
with a sprinkling of Holy Writ? ” 

Suddenly he started slightly and his arms tight¬ 
ened about her. His forehead was cleft with a 
frowm, his mouth set in grim lines, and his eyes 
partly closed. Without warning that strange, 
baffling voice had come forth from the oblivion of 
several weeks’ forgetfulness; and that mysterious 
hand, pressing upon his left arm, seemed to be 
pushing Nancy away from him. A smothered 
ejaculation burst from his lips. 

Dick, what is it? ” Nancy looked up, with eyes 




198 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


dilating and a quick indrawing of breath.. What 
is wrong? ” 

For a moment a little devil perched on my shoul¬ 
der and whispered that I was going to lose you. 
Nancy/’ he held her back, grasping her hands 
tensely, you won’t let anything come between us ? 
Promise me you won’t! ” 

Of course not, you dear, silly old thing! You 
can’t lose me, and I wonH lose you. We belong to 
each other for keeps.” 

Leisurely and happily they walked homeward 
along the cliff-path, which presently descended to 
the shore and ended at the garden of Cedarwold. 
They lingered by the gap in the hedge, unaware 
that a pair of wondering blue eyes was watching 
them through a leafy screen of lilacs until a pene¬ 
trating whisper startled their ears. 

^^Flip,—Flip,—^just look! Captain Dick’s hug¬ 
ging Nancy an’ kissing her; an’— she^s letting him 
do it! ” 

May I come to supper now? ” questioned Dick, 
his eyes twinkling at Nancy’s dismay. 

She struggled to free herself from his restrain¬ 
ing arms. 

You must come now. I couldn’t face the family 
alone.” 

Nancy broke away and ran to the house, leaving 
Dick to face Flip and Flop, who slowly emerged 



A Lover and His Lass 


199 


from the lilacs. For fully three minutes the twins 
stood looking at him solemnly, scornfully, silently. 
Then Flip spoke. 

My eye! hugging an’ kissing a girl! ” 

Are you Nancy’s sweetheart? ” asked Flop, 
more in sorrow than in anger. 

Such is my fond illusion,” answered the culprit 
with mock seriousness. 

^^Well, I s’pose it’s time she had one, but I’m 
sorry it’s you! ” Flip sighed. ‘^You’re too nice to 
be wasted on sweethearting. Now I s’pose you’ll 
have to kiss Nancy an’ hug her every day.” He 
regarded Dick with commiseration. 

^^Er—I’m afraid so,” replied Dick mournfully. 
^^I’ll have to keep to the rules of sweethearting. 
Yes,” there was hopeless dejection in his voice and 
attitude, I shall have to kiss Nancy every day of 
the week and twice on Sundays! ” 

Huh! ” grunted Flip, you’ll soon wear off your 
mustache if you aren’t careful.” 

“ Perhaps Nancy wants it off,” observed Flop 
sagaciously. Mustache kisses must be awful 
tickly. When I’m a sweetheart I shall have a 
smooth man for kissing, an’ the others with tooth- 
brushy lips will have to keep just to hugging; an’ 
they’ll all have to do it only on birthdays an’ 
Christmas, ’cause I don’t ’spect to be a kissy-huggy 
sweetheart.” 



200 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


“When Pm a sweetheart/’ began Flip, in tones 
that implied enforced resignation and disgust, “ I’ll 
have a mustache of barbated wire, and a ’lectric 
batterum in my pocket beside my heart; an’ if any 
girl gets too sweethearty with me, her face’ll be 
scratched an’ she’ll get a shock that’ll knock her 
silly.” 



CHAPTER XVin 


TOIL AND TROUBLE 

After a long day^s work, Mrs. Neve walked with 
slow, dragging steps along the street to her home 
and paused to lean wearily on the gate before she 
entered. 

It was a pale evening, for night was creeping 
shyly over the dove-gray sky, which was darkened 
in the west by an ominous cloud shaped like a huge, 
crouching lion. The landscape, rich in woodland 
and bounded in the distance by hills, was filled with 
the quiet hush of drowsy nature. One star shone 
overhead, gleamed and faded, as though abashed at 
finding itself alone in the sky before the moon had 
risen; like the first guest arriving too early at an 
evening party and before the host is ready. 

The gate-chain, weighted with a tin can filled 
* with pebbles, creaked as she opened the gate, which 
closed behind her with a sharp click of the latch. 
The small plot of ground before the cottage was 
uncared for, and straggling weeds overtopped the 
clusters of sweet william, devil-in-a-bush, live- 
forever, bleeding-hearts, and ribbon grass. 

I miss the pansies,’’ she murmured, “ they’re so 
pretty an’ soft; they make me think o’ Jessie. Mis’ 

201 


202 '' The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 

Hale calls them ' heartsease/ an’ that’s what Jessie 
is to me,—my heartsease! ” 

She entered the house which was gloomy with 
the shadows of the coming night. 

I wonder why Jessie’s sittin’ in the dark! ” she 
whispered, as she felt her way along the narrow 
hall until she reached the door of her daughter’s 
bedroom. It was slightly ajar, and she paused to 
listen. 

Jessie I ” she called softly. Dearie, are you 
there? ” 

There was no answer. Peering into the darkened 
room, she noticed that the bed coverings were 
raised in a narroAv mound. Jessie had gone to bed 
and was apparently asleep. 

guess she was too tired with the heat to sit 
up fer me. Well, it’s kinda late an’ I mus’ be 
gettiii’ my work done. There’s all Mis’ Wiggins’s 
laundry to be ironed so’s I c’n take it back to¬ 
morrow like I promised.” 

After making a light iix the plainly furnished 
kitchen, Mrs. ^^eve washed the few dishes that 
were neatly placed in the sink, and then proceeded 
to iron the pile of folded clothes that filled two 
large baskets. 

The room was hot and the night oppressively 
still. Through the open door and window the sky 
loomed black and starless, illumined by occasional 



Toil and Trouble 


208 


flares of liglitniiig, wliicli were like a flaming forth, 
of the smouldering lieat that had made the day blaze 
with a tropical temperature. 

Frequent sighs of weariness escaped the woman’s 
lips as sbe deftly smoothed the snowy, damp clothes 
into glossy crispness, or tested the temperature of 
a fresh iron with the tip of a moistened finger. 

When the work was finished she sank exhausted 
into a chair, buried her face in her arms on the 
table, and drifted into an uneasy slumber which 
was more a stupor of fatigue than restful sleep. 

After a time she was roused by a prolonged peal 
of thunder, a crackling flash of lightning, and the 
pelting of raindrops. She hurriedly closed door and 
window. 

I mus’ shet Jessie’s window! ” 

Taking the lamp in her hands, she went to Jes¬ 
sie’s room where she found the muslin curtains 
billowing in and out of the window and dripping 
with rain. 

“An’ I jes’ washed them curtains las’ week,” 
she said in rueful tones. “ Funny the noise didn’t 
rouse Jessie.” 

She glanced with a loving smile towards the bed, 
and then drew back with a start of terror and 
dismay. Jessie was not lying there, although the 
bed had been carefully arranged to look as though 
it contained an occupant. 



204 " The Good-for^Notliing Graysons 


She pulled aside the covers and saw two rolled 
quilts. On the pillow lay a folded note of pale- 
pink paper. With trembling fingers she carried the 
slip of paper to the bureau, where she had placed 
the lamp on entering the room. Her haggard, 
heavy-featured face was distorted, by an agony of 
dread, into grotesque lines like a grim mask of 
tragedy, and it showed ghastly white in the small 
misty mirror, as she turned the flame of the lamp 
higher. With panting breaths she read the brief 
lines. 

Dear Mother : 

Don’t be angry with me and hate me, but I 
am going away. I love Sid, and he says he’ll never 
speak to me again if I don’t go and meet him in 
Boston. We have quarreled so often because I 
wouldn’t go before. It will be all right, for we are 
going to be married as soon as we get to New York. 
Don’t be angry.” 

The woman staggered to the bed, which creaked 
and sagged beneath her weight as she sat down and 
stared with hot, tearless eyes at the smoking lamp. 

I mus’ think,—I mus’ think,” she muttered, as 
she rocked to and fro in an agony of helpless grief. 

“ It’s terrible late, an’ if I go an’ tell the Hales 
it’ll upset Mis’ Hale an’, maybe, bring on a weak 
spell with her heart. She ain’t strong, an’ Mist’ 
Hale never lets her be worried ’bout things. I’ll go 
to the Keverend Niggle; he always sets up late 



Toil and Trouble 


205 


readin’ at his books, an^ he’ll tell me what to do. 
O God! take care o’ my girl this night an’ bring 
her back to my arms! ” 

She seized her shabby hat from a nail in the hall 
and passed out of the house. 

The Keverend Mgel Alden sat in his study, read¬ 
ing his beloved and worn copy of Theocritus. He 
was a tall man, of slender build, with silvery-white 
hair, sensitive, clear-cut features, and dreamy blue 
eyes. The War had drained his life of joy,—^three 
of his sons were lying under the lilies of France. 

It brings me nearer to God,” he often said, 
when he spoke of his threefold sacrifice. 

Of his fourth son,—his Benjamin,—^he never 
spoke. The wild, reckless, but lovable youth had 
disappeared two years before the War, to escape 
imprisonment for embezzling funds in a Boston 
bank where he held a position of trust. No one 
knew of the bereaved father’s lonely nights in his 
study where he prayed for the wanderer, his kneel¬ 
ing form shaken with hard, tearless sobs that are 
only wrung from a man’s strong agony. But every 
one noticed that he became more frail, that his 
courteous smile was sad rather than cheery, and 
that his gaze grew more abstracted. The venerable, 
saintly man ministered to his people, radiating a 
benign sympathy that scattered flowers of charity 
and tenderness wherever he went. 



206 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


His clotlies became shabby and threadbare, “a 
disgrace to Cassburn,’’ Miss Louella often declared: 
for he had assumed the responsibility of restoring 
the funds his boy had stolen, giving up his private 
income, and taxing his small stipend with yearly 
payments to the bank. Only Hepsy Strong, his 
housekeeper, knew of his humble fare, the meagre 
fires, the discontinuance of subscriptions to his 
favorite magazines, and all the petty economies that 
robbed his home of daily comforts, 

Mrs. I^^eve stumbled along the path leading from 
the gate to the door of the rectory. She timidly 
pulled the bell-handle, and waited with bated 
breath for Mr. Alden’s appearance. When he 
opened the door the light from a lamp he held in 
his left hand shone upon the woman’s distraught 
countenance. He gently drew her inside and led 
her to his study. 

What is it, Mary Ellen? I see you are in trou¬ 
ble. What can I do for you? ” 

‘‘Mist’ Alden, I’m mos’ crazy! Jessie’s gone. 
She’s run off to meet Sid Hale in Boston, an’ her 
so young an’ innocent! He’s takin’ her to IS'ew 
York, so her letter said, an’ I’m feared he ain’t to 
be trusted. I don’t know what to do! ” 

“What time did she go? ” he asked gently. 

“ I don’t know. I worked late at Mis’ Vance’s 
an’ I thought Jessie was in bed when I got home; 



Toil and Trouble 


207 


an’ I didn’t find out different till I’d finished a pile 
o’ ironin’. Maybe it’s too late to do anythin’, now, 
but I hed to come to you, Mist’ Alden. Folks al¬ 
ways come to you in trouble, jes’ like they pray to 
God! ” 

The old man frowned in thought. If she didn’t 
catch the six-thirty train at Bradbury she wouldn’t 
be able to leave until eleven-twenty-two.” He 
glanced at the grandfather’s clock in the corner of 
the room. It is now twelve-fifteen. I happen to 
know that Kichard Thorold went to Boston this 
morning, and he will be spending the night at the 
Touraine. I’ll hurry over to David Hale’s, and we’ll 
drive into Bradbury where I can get Thorold on 
the long-distance telephone. I’ll ask him to meet 
the late train and detain Jessie. Then David and 
I will take the milk train to Boston and bring her 
home. I know Thorold will do all he can, and I 
believe we shall be able to save Jessie from this 
escapade. It all depends on when she left Brad¬ 
bury.” 

While he was speaking he had brought his hat, 
raincoat, and rubbers from the hall and donned 
them hastily. 

I’ll go over to the Hales’ with you. Mist’ Alden, 
an’ I’ll stay with Mis’ Hale till Mist’ Hale gets 
back. He won’t like her to be alone if she rouses 
when you get there.” 



208 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


It had. ceased raining, and stars were beginning 
to shine through gashes of the clouds that drifted 
over the sky. 

David Hale was a large, slow-moving man, but 
Mr. Alden^s briefly told story stirred him to rapid 
action. 

We must save little Jessie! he repeated over 
and over, as he dressed and hurried out to the barn. 

In a short time the two men drove off to Brad¬ 
bury. Mrs. Neve was lighting a fire in the kitchen 
stove, for the night had grown chilly, when Mrs. 
Hale joined her. 

^^Mary Ellen, Dave’s told me what’s happened, 
and I can’t say how bad I feel.” Her face was 
pinched and wan with anxiety, and she shivered 
slightly as she drew a small rocking-chair near to 
the stove. Sidney’s always been hard to manage, 
but this is the worst thing he’s ever done. And 
he’s our only boy,—all we have! ” 

I didn’t mean to come here an’ bother you. Mis’ 
Hale,” began Mrs. Neve, but the Reverend Niggle 
said we hed to hev Mist’ Hale’s help. I’ll make a 
cup o’ tea,—it’ll strengthen you, if you don’t feel 
like sleepin’ again. An’ I b’lieve I’ll start the 
washin’ now, ’stead o’ waitin’ till mornin’. It’ll 
help me to keep movin’.” 

No, Mary Ellen, you’ll have some tea with me, 
else I won’t drink any myself. I have to talk to 



Toil and Trouble 


209 


some one while I’m sittin’ here, waitin’ and won¬ 
derin’ how things’ll turn out. I’m glad you’re 
here. Bring your chair closer to mine, it’ll help me 
to hold your hand.” 

The two women sat together, their hands clasped 
and their hearts united in sharing the burden of 
anxiety. Mrs. Hale’s weak voice rambled on, but 
Mary Ellen sat in stony despair, a statue of grief. 

Your Jessie’s a sweet girl, Mary Ellen, just like 
our Lily was,—pretty and refined in her ways. It 
was a great sorrow to us when we lost our girl. 
She was always a comfort to us, up to the day she 
died; but Sidney is a sore trial to us, as you know. 
Dave often says that there’s no one in Cassburn 
he respects like he does you, and he thinks the 
world of Jessie. He won’t let any harm come to 
her. He told me when he was dressing that he’d 
stand by Jessie and be like her father ’stead of Sid¬ 
ney’s, if need be.” 

Dick Thorold had just retired when the ringing 
telephone on a stand beside his bed shrilled into 
his ears. As he listened to Mr. Alden’s voice, he 
glanced at his watch. 

If Jessie is on the late train I’ll put a full stop 
to the romantic adventure,” he said briskly. 

There’s plenty of time. I’ll keep the girl until 
you get here, if I have to wring that young cub’s 
neck.” 



210 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


The train from Bradbury had pulled in and 
was departing when Dick’s taxi reached the station. 
He tossed a bill to the chauffeur and rushed 
through the gate. Except for a couple of porters, 
the platform was deserted. 

Chut! I’m too late! ” he exclaimed. She 
must have caught the early train, poor little girl! 
And now she and Sidney are probably on their way 
to New York, confound him! I’ll have to telegraph 
Mr. Alden.” 

He entered the waiting-room, and his heart gave 
a leap of exultation when he saw Sidney Hale lead¬ 
ing Jessie to one of the long benches. They sat 
down and Dick took his position behind them, 
where he was well concealed by the high back of 
the seat, and where he could hear the young man’s 
sulky responses to Jessie’s soft, pleading voice. 

Sid, I wish you’d let us be married here in Bos¬ 
ton and then send a telegram to Mother before we 
go to New York. She’ll be worrying till she hears, 
and I feel afraid to go so far away without being 
married. Please, Sid! ” 

Now, see here, Jess, I’ve made all my plans and 
we’ve got to get the next train to New York or 
everything’ll go fluey. What are you in such a 
wax about, anyway? ” 

B-b-but,” her teeth chattered, I’m afraid to go 
with you without a ring on my finger; and Mother’ll 



Toil and Trouble 


211 


be worrying till she bears that we are married, 
when she knows IVe come to meet you here.’’ 

How’ll sbe know? Didn’t you fix tbe bed tbe 
way I told you, so sbe’d tbink you were asleep when 
sbe got borne? If you did, sbe’ll likely go ofi to 
work in tbe morning without disturbing you. Don’t 
be silly! ” 

Y-y-y-yes, but sbe might go right into my room 
to-night and see the note I 1-1-left on tbe p-p-pil- 
low.” 

^^You left a note!” be exclaimed. ^^You little 
idiot! Wbat’d you do that for? ” 

Jessie began to cry. 

Come on,” Sidney jerked her roughly from tbe 
seat, we’ll bustle over to tbe other station, in¬ 
stead of waiting here.” He grabbed her straw suit¬ 
case from tbe fioor. Come on! ” 

Dick sauntered round the end of the seat and 
stood directly in their way as they neared tbe door. 
Sidney, with one band grasping Jessie’s elbow, 
made an effort to brush past him; but Dick gently 
took tbe girl’s limp band in bis, and asked: 

What are you doing here, Jessie? ” 

We’re in a burry,” announced Sidney churl¬ 
ishly, and it’s none of your darned business, any¬ 
way.” 

That’s just where you’re wrong, Master Sidney. 
I’m here to make it my business, to protect this 



212 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons ** 


little girl until your father arrives to take her home. 
Jessie/’ his voice softened with pitying persuasion, 
I^m sure you love that good mother of yours; don’t 
break her heart by going on with this foolish af¬ 
fair ! ” 

Look here, Mr. Thorold, I’d like to know why 
you’re butting in like this! ” Sidney blustered. 
Keep off the grass! Come on, Jess.” 

I don’t know what to do,” moaned the girl. I 
want to go with Sidney, but,—I’m afraid! ” Her 
tear-brimmed eyes looked up appealingly at Dick, 
and she repeated, I don’t know what to do! ” 

I tell you what to do,” he spoke with friendly 
assurance. We’ll all wait here until Sidney’s 
father arrives,—^he’s coming on the milk train; and 
then you can discuss it with him. Let him decide 
what is best for you to do, Jessie.” 

The girl’s pale face showed wavering indecision 
for a moment, and then she shrank back before 
Sidney’s outburst of temper. 

You mean little piker! You’ve balled every¬ 
thing up by leaving that note for your mother. 
Make up your mind here and now, or I quit; do 
you hear? I quit! If you’re coming with me, stop 
your sniveling and get a move on! ” 

The girl’s lips stiffened into a line of stubborn 
determination, her drooping form straightened, and 
she pulled her arm from Sidney’s clutching fingers. 



Toil and Trouble 


213 


I’m going home,—^home to my mother,” she said 
in lifeless tones. 

Huh! ” sneered Sidney. What’ll you do when 
the whole village hears about your coming away 
like this and then having to go back without being 
married? That’ll make some talk. I’ll tell the 
world. Come on, Jess.” 

I’m afraid of you now,” she trembled, and 
again withdrew her arm from his rough grasp. 

You don’t love me as I thought you did. I know 

folks’ll talk if they hear of this, but-” 

“ They’ll hear of it all right, all right! ” broke 
in Sidney. 

I s’pose they will, and I’ll deserve all they say 
about me; but ,—Fm going home!’’ 

Sidney turned to Dick with a look of exasperated 
fury. 

Some day, Mr. Thorold, I’ll get even with you 
for this, you-” his words ended with a mut¬ 

tered imprecation, and he left the station. 

Jessie obeyed Dick’s kindly urging to drink some 
coffee, but she tearfully refused to eat or lie down 
in the rest room, as he suggested. 

I c-c-couldn’t rest. I’d rather walk up and 
down outside,—if you don’t mind.” 

They were pacing the platform together when the 
milk train from Bradbury arrived. In the early 
morning sun the girl’s wan, pathetic face was like 





214 "" The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 

a flower that had bloomed too early in the spring 
and found frost instead of sunshine. She trembled 
as David Hale approached her, and Dick went 
quickly forward to Mr. Alden. 

I’m ashamed,—so ashamed! ” she whispered, 
with a shuddering sob. 

Jessie, my little dove,” he tenderly folded her 
in his great, strong arms, God has been good to 
you! It’s a hard thing for a father to say of his 
boy,” the man’s voice quavered and hesitated, but 
Sid ain’t good enough for you, dear. He ain’t fit 
to marry any girl. He’d break her heart, jes’ like 
he’s breaking his mother’s and mine.” 

Jessie clung to him. I’m afraid, I’m ashamed 
to face Mother! Perhaps she will hate me now! ” 

^^Ho, my dear, you need her love now more’n 
ever you did, and you’ll find her arms ready for 
you,—^wide open. Mothers are like that, Jessie. 
Their love never changes, never fails! As long as 
there are mothers in the world, folks will believe in 
God’s love! ” 

Three days later the news of the frustrated elope¬ 
ment reached Watch-and-Pry Corner. 

“ Great grief! ” exclaimed Mrs. Vance, after Miss 
Louella had ladled out her information. ‘^Ho 
wonder Jessie’s never seen out o’ the house, an’ 
Mrs. Neve putters along the street to her work like 
she was walkin’ in her sleep! ” 



Toil and Trouble 


215 


Just so.” Mrs. Hertz blinked and dropped a 
needleful of stitcbes in tbe lace she was knitting 
for a petticoat. 

At this moment Mrs. Talbot entered the post- 
office. 

Here’s news for you, Melissa! ” cried Mrs. 
Vance. You’ll never guess! ” 

Mrs. Talbot smiled serenely. I s’pose you 
mean ’bout Jessie an’ Sid actin’ foolish. Mis’ Hale 
told me ’bout it yesterday. She said that David felt 
the young folks hadn’t ought to marry so soon, 
’cause Sid’s in no position to s’port a wife.” 

Sid’s a wild one, he’s always out of a job,” ob¬ 
served Mrs. Hertz. 

An’ when it comes to marryin’, I guess the 
Hales ’d think Sid c’d do better’n marry a wash¬ 
woman’s daughter,” added Mrs. Vance. 

Just so,” agreed Mrs. Hertz. 

You’re wrong there,” Mrs. Talbot bristled. 

They think a lot o’ Jessie. Next week Jennie 
Hale’s goin’ over to Preston Springs to be treated 
fer rheumatism, an’ she don’t like the idea o’ bein’ 
alone amongst crowds o’ strangers in that big 
place, so she’s takin’ Jessie with her. There now! ” 

Well, I never! ” gasped Mrs. Vance. 

“ As the Holy Writ says,” sniffed Miss Louella, 
^^Who hath ears to hear let him hear, an’ a still, 
small voice tells me that there’s more in this than 



216 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


meets the eye, with the Eeverend Niggle and David 
Hale rushin’ off to stop it. Like a dead fly in the 
ointment o’ the apothecary, it sends forth a bad 
smell that is a scandal to the minds o’ Christian 
folks, that’s what! ” 

There yon are, Louella! ” Mrs. Talbot’s voice 
shook with emotion. I vow it’s mean to be so 
ready to think wrong o’ folks like you do, an’ make 
scandal ’bout everything. What you need, Louella, 
is a good, stiff dose o’ charity that thinketh no evil! 
That’s a bit o’ Holy Writ you ought to ponder on, 
so’s your mind could be disinfected. It sure needs 
it!” 

Just so,” murmured Mrs. Hertz inadvertently, 
as Mrs. Talbot sailed out of the post-offlce like a 
frigate with all flags flying. 

Miss Louella’s gaping mouth closed with a snap 
of her teeth, and her nose produced a snort of 
astonishment. This day an’ this night! The idea 
o’ Melissa Talbot throwin’ the Holy Writ in my 
face like a cup o’ cold water! Did y’ever hear the 
likes o’ that? ” 



CHAPTER XIX 


MISS FAIRY GODMOTHER 

Louella Greer sat in her bay-window reading 
the Bible in a desultory fashion, frequently raising 
her eyes to jieer through the lace curtains which, 
according to her Sunday custom, she had released 
from the cords that looped them back during the 
week. 

The peaceful dullness of a Sunday afternoon that 
has reached the hour of preparations for supper 
was undisturbed by passers-by, and presently she 
became so absorbed in her reading that she failed 
to notice the approach of a young man in uniform, 
with sergeanPs stripes on his sleeve, who came 
slowly along Chestnut Street carrying a small suit¬ 
case. 

The door was wide open, admitting a flood of sun¬ 
light which made the brown-stained floor look as 
though some careless person had spilled a can of 
yellow paint over it. The soldier paused before the 
door and glanced up at the sign. 

village post-offlce is always a good general 
information bureau,” he said, as he nodded at the 
sign, so ril step inside and interrogate.” 

His shadow seemed to wipe up some of the sun- 

217 


218 ^ The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


liglit on the floor as he mounted the steps and en¬ 
tered the post-oflice. 

Miss Louella rose quickly. This office ain’t 
open Sundays/’ she announced tartly. You can’t 
get stamps or send off a telegram to-day.” 

The young man gave her a peculiar half-smile, 
which suggested a good-natured grin; but it was a 
one-sided smile, because the muscles of his left 
cheek were partly paralyzed by an ugly jagged scar 
which extended from his jaw to the empty socket of 
his eye. He was tall, erect, and well-built, and his 
bronze face was ruddy with the glow of health. 
His hair was of a nondescript, sandy tint, closely 
cropped. His right eye, blue and humorous, had 
the keen glance of a shrewd observer. He placed 
his suitcase on the floor. 

I beg your pardon for disturbing you,” he 
drawled. The village seems to be lost in an after¬ 
noon nap, and your open door was the only wide¬ 
awake sign I noticed. So I stepped in to inquire 
if there is a boarding-house where I could put up 
for a few days.” 

Where do you come from? ” asked Miss Louella 
coldly. 

For some time past I’ve been attending a sort 
of finishing school in France, taking lessons in the 
parley-voo. More recently I’ve been helping out 
with the new Watch on the Khine.” 



Miss Fairy Godmother 


219 


Oh, you^re a soldier, ain^t you? 

I’m not denying it,” his lips twitched slightly. 
I guess my uniform tells you that, and my face 
corroborates it. I’m Sergeant Tom McGillicuddy of 
the A. E. F.” 

What’s your business in Cassburn? ” 

For a moment he regarded her shrewdly, and 
when he spoke it was with a cool deliberation that 
betokened reserve and mistrust. 

To tell you the truth, I can’t exactly say. You 
see, I drifted into Bradbury yesterday and I hap¬ 
pened to hear some one mention the name of this 
village. Cassburn’s a nice-sounding name, easy to 
pronounce and spell, which is a relief after the 
tongue-twisters I’ve been up against in Europe. 
You have to tie your tongue in a knot to pronounce 
most of the French names, and to get the German 
names out of your mouth you have to swallow your 
tongue. So I walked over to see what Cassburn 
was like, and it looks so restful that I feel I’d like 
to stay for a day or two, if there’s a house where I 
can find accommodation.” 

Well, there ain’t any boardin’-houses here,” she 
informed him. When strangers come to Cassburn 
it’s mostly to visit friends. But I hev a spare room, 
so I guess I c’d take you in jes’ to be friendly like, 
seein’ as how you’re a returned soldier an’ hev no- 
wheres to go. As the Holy Writ says, I was a 



220 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


stranger an’ you took me in, and money made un¬ 
expected is money found, I say! ’’ 

That’s very obliging of you! ” 

She glanced at the clock. I’ll show you up to 
your room, an’ then I’ll get supper ready. I’ll hev 
to hurry some for I play the organ at the church an’ 
I don’t want to be late.” 

She left him in the neat little upstairs room, 
which had the temperature of a baking-oven in ac¬ 
tive service. The window was tightly closed to 
keep out the dust, and the air was stifling and 
heavy, as though the heat of the summer sun had 
been concentrated and packed within the four walls. 

Let me have light and air,” he murmured, as 
he drew up the shade and opened the window. 

Phew! ” he whistled softly. That woman is a 
human fish-hook baited with inquisitiveness. She’s 
stewing with curiosity to know why I’ve come to 
Cassburn, but she’ll find that I’m wearing a muzzle 
when she tackles me on that subject.” 

While unpacking his suitcase he glanced about 
the room. There were roses everywhere,—entwin¬ 
ing a bright blue trellis on the wall-paper; sprawl¬ 
ing in wreaths on the carpet; massed in tight 
bunches among gilt arabesques on the china set on 
the wash-stand; and blooming in wax under a glass 
dome which stood on a table supported by one leg 
with three feet. 




Miss Fairy Godmother 221 

Some little bower! ” lie chortled. I bet I’ll 
dream to-night that I’m a rose,—a blushing rose! ” 
The bed was covered with a red-and-white check¬ 
er-board counterpane. The stiff pillow-shams, 
edged with fluted frills, preached an allegorical 
sermon, outlined with red cotton, on the dream and 
the business of life. On the left one was pictured 
a sleeping maiden with flowing hair and the text,— 
I Slept and Dreamed that Life was Beauty; ” on 
the right the same maiden—presumably—attired 
in cap and apron, wielded a broom, and the accom¬ 
panying inscription declared,—I Woke and Found 
that Life was Duty.” 

He crossed to the bureau and surveyed himself 
in the small mirror. 

Some map to show a girl,” he observed to his 
reflection. Tom, my boy, you’d be good-looking 
if you wore a gas-mask. I wonder what Miss Susan 
Avery will do when she sees my handsome mug? 
Laugh and run, I suppose. I was a fool to come, 
but I want to see that girl, and it’s hard to pry my¬ 
self loose from anything I’ve set my mind on. I’ll 
mosey over to the church this evening. Maybe 
Susan will be there. I’ll be able to recognize lier 
from her picture; and I’ll get an eyeful of her, 
without her knowing it.” 

The evening service had already commenced and 
the Amen ” of the opening hymn greeted Nancy’s 



222 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


ears as she hastened through the churchyard. Hot 
and breathless, she paused on the steps to compose 
herself before entering the church. Through the 
open door and windows came the sound of Mr. Al- 
den’s voice, low-toned and reverent, falling upon 
the stillness of the evening like the light of a star 
shining on the smooth surface of a pool. The sky 
was a clear, delicate mauve, deepening towards the 
horizon into hazy amethyst; and in the west hud¬ 
dled a group of purple clouds, slowly drinking up 
the crimson sunset. 

Suddenly she started as a man, making a hur¬ 
ried exit from the church, brushed against her. 
She gave him a look of bewildered interrogation as 
he turned abruptly and stood with his cap tightly 
clutched in his hand, his face working with emotion. 
It was Tom McGillicuddy. 

“ I beg your pardon,’’ he began. I was upset 
and-” 

Don’t apologize,” Nancy smiled at his embar¬ 
rassment. I was standing directly in your way. 
It wasn’t your fault.” She turned to enter the 
church. 

Wait a moment,—please! Had that old gentle¬ 
man in there,—the clergyman, I mean—a son in 
the army named Ted? ” 

He had three sons in the army. They were all 
killed in the Argonne. His fourth son, the young- 




Miss Fairy Godmother 


223 


est—and his name was Ted—disappeared several 
years ago; and Mr. Alden has never heard from 
him. Oh! did you know Ted Alden? ’’ 

^^He didnT call himself Alden; hut- Let^s 

move away from the door, do you mind? I want to 
tell you about the Ted I knew, and make sure. Our 
talking here may disturb the congregation.’’ 

They walked a short distance from the steps and 
Tom began to speak, his voice slow and husky with 
feeling. 

Ted Anderson and I were buddies. We met in 
camp and palled up from the start. He was a quiet 
chap. When the other fellows were talking about 
their homes and families, Ted never had a word 
to say. The reason he was chummy with me, I sup¬ 
pose, was that I was a shy, lonely bird with no 
folks to talk about or get letters from; but he never 
told me anything about himself, though I guessed, 
somehow, that he had gone wrong in the past. 

I was a greenhorn, unused to mingling with 
folks, and not knowing my way about. There was 
many a trap I might have fallen into if Ted hadn’t 
taken the trouble to give me friendly advice and 
words of warning. 

Then—one night he spoke. It was at Chateau 
Thierry. There was a lull in the fighting. The fel¬ 
lows were pulling off jokes about what they were 
going to do to the Kaiser when they got to Berlin. 




224 "" The Good-f or-Nothing Graysons'' 


The* moon was high, shining a ghastly white that 
made the night seem like the corpse of a day. Ted 
was next to me, and not saying a word. Suddenly 
he turned to me with a queer smile. 

a ^ Tom,’ he whispered, ^ I’ve a hunch that this 
weird illumination is in honor of my finish, but I 
feel that you’re going to see it through, so I’ve a 
little job for you.’ 

He took from his pocket a letter and a photo¬ 
graph. ^ That’s my father. I—broke his heart. 
This letter is for him,—see that he gets it, Tom. It 
will let him know that I found the way—^home at 
last! ’ 

He choked on his words and handed me the let¬ 
ter and the picture. In the white moonlight I saw 
the face of a saintly old man, and I just had time 
to think that if Christ had lived to be an old man 
He would have looked like Ted’s father, when a 
bomb cut through the air and landed in our trench. 
With a leap Ted threw himself on the deadly thing, 
and then,—the world went black! 

After that I found myself crawling, with some 
other fellows, from under a mass of loose earth and 
sand-bags. We were all more or less damaged. 
There was nothing left of Ted. The letter and 
photograph were gone; and when I came out of the 
hospital I had only the memory of that beautiful 
old face, for I hadn’t seen the address on the letter. 



Miss Fairy Godmother 


225 


To-niglit when the clergyman stood up to read the 
service I—recognized him! It knocked me over,— 
I felt as though I had seen a ghost! 

Oh! ” Nancy breathed quickly, God must have 
sent you here to bring consolation to Mr. Alden,— 
to tell him of Ted’s brave death. How wonderful! ” 
■ Tom nodded. And I’ve been calling myself all 
kinds of a fool for coming. I’ve—^well, I’ve been 
corresponding with a girl in Bradbury; had a pair 
of Bed Cross socks given me in France with her 
name and address sewn on them, and-” 

You’re Tom McGillicuddy! ” exclaimed Nancy, 
impulsively seizing his hand. You’ve come to 
meet Susan! ” 

You’ve guessed right. I arrived in Bradbury 
this morning and learned that Susan’s home was in 
Cassburn; so I walked over this afternoon. But 
—I guess I’ll just call on Mr. Alden after the ser¬ 
vice. Then I’ll beat it to-morrow morning. The 
bomb that killed Ted messed up my face, as you 
see. I’m a holy show, with the Kaiser’s autograph 
on my cheek and nobody home in my left eye. I 
haven’t the courage to meet Susan after all, so I’ll 
fade away.” 

No, you won’t! ” declared Nancy. “ Susan is a 
splendid girl, you must meet her! She’s lonely and 
shy, and dreadfully unhappy in her home. But 
she’s afraid to meet you, because—she—she was 







226 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


born witb a barelip, and sbe’s terribly sensitive 
about it. There was a successful operation per¬ 
formed when sbe was a tiny child, so it is really 
only a scar, and her speech is not affected. But sbe 
feels ashamed to meet you because of that picture 
sbe sent you. It was a movie actress.’’ 

Tom laughed. I’m glad it wasn’t her picture, 
it was such a pippin! Susan’s having a scarred 
lip makes me hope that she’ll be able to overlook 
my frontispiece. Tell me about her.” 

He listened attentively while she told Susan’s 
pathetic history. So you see,” she finished, Su¬ 
san is a wonderful girl. You’ll like her, and ”— 
she looked up at him with a frank, friendly smile, 
I’m sure she will like you.” 

Where does she live? ” There was boyish eager¬ 
ness in his voice. Where’s her home? I want to 
meet her right away.” 

“ Then you shall, but I don’t think you will have 
to go to her home. She is probably in the church¬ 
yard now, over behind those cedars. She usually 
comes here on Sunday evenings. I’ll find her and 
tell her you are here. Just wait a moment.” 

Susan was sitting on the low stone wall which 
bounded the southern end of the churchyard. She 
had taken off her hat and the sea breeze was ruf¬ 
fling her hair into fine, loose tendrils. The waves 
swished upon the shore, making a rhythmic accom- 



Miss Fairy Godmother 


227 


paniment to the monotonous croaking of frogs 
which came from a pond near by. She turned at 
Nancy’s approach, and a gleam of a smile flitted 
across her wistful face. 

Susan, I have a surprise for you. IVe just been 
talking with—Tom McGillicuddy! ” 

For a moment Susan looked at her with startled 
eyes. Then she buried her face in her hands and 
wept bitterly. 

I can’t meet him! He mustn’t see me! ” 

Susan, he’s a dear! I’ve told him all about 
you, so he knows about your lip. He’s shy about 
meeting you, because he was injured in the War 
and one side of his face is badly disfigured. Buck 
up, Susan! Be a sport! Tom’s waiting over there, 
the other side of the cedars.” 

Susan tried to break away, but Nancy held her 
firmly. 

Let me go, Nancy,—let me go! ” 

I won’t let you go. You’ll meet him, if I have 
to drag you over to him by your hair. Don’t be a 
flabby jelly-fish, Susan! ” 

I can’t—I can’t meet him! I’m afraid! ” 

Don’t be afraid! ” Tom’s drawling voice came 
from the cedars and he appeared before them. Ex¬ 
cuse me for butting in like this, but I grew im¬ 
patient waiting over there. Those croaking frogs 
seemed to be calling me in this direction. Just lis- 



228 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons ” 


ten to ’em saying my name over and over! ^Mc- 
Gillicuddy, McGillicuddy, McGillicnddy ’! ” 

His imitation of tlie frogs was perfect. Susan’s 
shamed timidity was lost in the laugh she shared 
with ^^'ancy. 

Now that the frogs have introduced me, won’t 
you shake hands with me—Susan? ” he asked dif¬ 
fidently. 

Susan held out her hand. I’m glad—^you came 
—Tom.” 

Nancy stole away. Tom sat on the wall beside 
Susan. 

I don’t care to talk about yourself,” he began 
awkwardly, ^^but I reckon you ought to hear my 
story. I was born in a poorhouse. No one knew 
my mother, or where she came from. She sought 
shelter at the poorhouse one stormy night, half 
frozen and too near death to say anything of the life 
she was leaving. She lived until the next morning, 
just long enough to baptize me with her tears. 

When I was ten years old I ran away from the 
poorhouse, and knocked about for a couple of years, 
living on kicks and crusts, until I met John Mc¬ 
Gillicuddy. He was an old bachelor, rich, lonely, 
and close-fisted; spent his life raising fruit and pet¬ 
ting a grouch against mankind, especially women¬ 
folk. He hated the sight of a skirt. When I drifted 
up to his place and asked for a job he greets me 



Miss Fairy Godmother 


229 


with roars of laughter, and offered to engage me at 
once as a scarecrow. I was dirty, ragged, starved, 
and ill; but I had strength and courage enough to 
curse him, and I did it thoroughly. Then I dropped 
at his feet in a dead faint. 

He nursed me through a long illness,—no 
woman could have been Idnder or more gentle. He 
adopted me, gave me his name, and educated me; 
didn^t send me to school, but taught me himself. 
It was a queer life for a kid. He was kind to me, 
but never intimate. There was some mystery about 
him, something had happened in the past to turn 
him sour towards life. His only friends were his 
books, and he had enough of them to stock a Car¬ 
negie library. 

He never spoke of himself, not even when he 
was drunk; and he had periodic sprees, would drink 
himself into a stupor and lie for days,—a sodden, 
human log! The sight of his degradation disgusted 
me with booze. When he died I inherited his 
money, his ranch, and his lack of friends. The folks 
in the nearest town treated me as they had always 
treated him,—they left me alone. The only people 
I knew were business acquaintances: the lawyer, 
the president of the bank, and the man who owned 
the store where I bought my supplies. 

Then came the War. I have written to you 
about that. I’m a lonesome chap, as you see. I’ve 



230 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 

never had a chance of being friendly with a girl, so 
I guess you can understand how I’d appreciate your 
friendship, if you’ll let me have it when we’re bettor 
acquainted.” 

His hand was resting on the coping of the wall 
between them. Susan reached out and pressed it 
gently. 

I’ve been lonely, too, Tom.” 

He took her hand in both of his and they sat in 
silence, listening to the singing in the church. The 
final verse of the hymn rang out, joyous and clear. 

* ^ Angels! sing on, your faithful watches keeping, 
Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above; 

Till morning’s joy shall end the night of weeping 
And life’s long shadows break in cloudless love. 
Angels of Jesus, angels of light. 

Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night. 

Amen. ’ ’ 

«I’m going to see Mr. Alden after the service,” 
said Tom. I want him to write to my lawyer and 
also to my commanding officer to get my credentials, 
so that your folks will know that I’m straight goods. 
On Wednesday I have to go to 'New York—er—on 
some—er—military business. Then I’ll get my dis¬ 
charge as soon as I can and come back to Cassburn. 
By that time Mr. Alden will know all about me and, 
—well, Susan, I’ll hang around for a while so that 
you can find out if my step suits yours. If it 





Miss Fairy Godmother 


231 


doesn^t,—there’s no harm done. I’ll go hack to my 
ranch and maybe you’ll write to a fellow now and 
again, as you did when I was in France,—a ^ pil¬ 
grim of the night.’ 

If my step does suit yours, well—it’s too soon 
to speak about that; but you can guess what’s in 
my mind. Take your time in getting to know me. 
I’m not a brainy bird, and I’m rough and unused 
to girls; so if you can’t like me, I’ll understand.” 

Perhaps you wmn’t like me,” Susan ventured. 

Per—^haps, I don’t think! ” laughed Tom, as he 
assisted her from the wall. I’ve traveled pretty 
far in the direction of liking you, and I don’t in¬ 
tend to turn back.” 

They found Nancy waiting for them at the gate. 
The congregation had already departed. The 
church was in darkness, but a soft yellow light 
streamed from the window of Mr. Alden’s study 
which overlooked the churchyard. 

Susan, you must play truant from Madame 
Foy’s to-morrow. I want you and ”—Nancy 
hesitated and then spoke the next word with 
friendly emphasis ,—Tom to come over for supper. 
Tom, I saw Mr. Alden and told him that there was 
a stranger here who wished to speak with him to¬ 
night. So he is expecting you. By the way, you 
don’t know my name, do you? I am Nancy Gray¬ 
son.” 



232 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


IVe another name for you,” said Tom as he 
gripped her hand. It^s ^ Miss Fairy Godmother.’ ” 
I’ll try to live up to it,” replied Nancy. 

Where are you staying? ” 

I’m boarding with the Grand Blah-Blah of 
Scripture-quoters, who runs the post-ofQ.ce. While 
I ate my supper, a little sketch of ham and eggs 
that looked like a bird’s-eye view of a sunset, she 
handed me several earfuls of gossip, trimmed with 
the Holy Writ; and I have a fair idea of what she 
and God think of the folks in this village. Half an 
hour’s conversation with her made me long for 
temporary deafness.” 



CHAPTER XX 


MORNING^S JOY 

For several minutes after Xancy and Susan left 
him, Tom stood at the churchyard gate, wrestling 
with an overpowering fit of shyness and dread. The 
coming interview with Mr. Alden required tact and 
courage, and he felt himself a clumsy, blundering 
fellow, unequal to the delicate task that lay before 
him. 

True, his story would bring comfort to the lonely, 
sorrowing father, but Tom was unused to gentle 
ways of speech and his blunt telling of it would 
seem a desecration, like the tearing aside of a veil 
before a shrine. With a hopeless shrug, as though 
trying to ease the weight of a burden on his shoul¬ 
ders, he turned towards the rectory, wishing it were 
miles away instead of only a few yards. In sheer 
desperation he rang the bell. Mr. Alden answered 
the summons. 

Come in, my boy! ’’ he said with a warm shake 
of the hand, and a sweet, gentle smile shone over 
his worn, grief-furrowed face. 

He led Tom to his study, a shabby, intimate room 
with book-shelves climbing up three walls to the 
ceiling. It was a small room, but the books, with 

233 


234 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


their polyglot titles, made it a large world; though 
here and there were gaps in the shelves, dumbly 
proclaiming the sacrifice of precious volumes that 
had been sold. 

On the wall near the mantelpiece a small flag 
caught Tom’s eye, a Stars and Stripes. Under it 
were three framed photographs, which he rightly 
judged were pictures of Mr. Alden’s sons who had 
been killed in action. At one end of a long writing- 
table was a tray, containing sandwiches and milk 
for two. 

I always have a little snack after the evening 
service,” said Mr. Alden as he motioned Tom to a 
seat. You will join me, I hope.” 

Tom found it difficult to eat, although he was 
really hungry after the slim supper Miss Louella 
had served him. He was in a miserable state of 
fear and agitation, hesitating to disturb the gentle 
old man’s serenity by speaking of Ted. Perhaps the 
man he had known as Ted Anderson was not Mr. 
Alden’s son! The resemblance he had recognized 
between his host and the worn, soiled photograph 
he had momentarily glimpsed in the weird moon¬ 
light of that awful night in the trenches might be 
but a trick of his imagination, a delusion of mem¬ 
ory. 

Very haltingly, he spoke of Susan and himself, 
repeating the story he had told her in the church- 



Morning's Joy 


235 


yard. Mr. Alden smiled indulgently, liis face beam¬ 
ing with genial interest as he wrote down the ad¬ 
dresses Tom gave him. 

I will write at once,^’ he said. I admire the 
manly, straightforward way in which you have 
come to me. Susan, I have known since her baby¬ 
hood. She is a sweet girl, a noble character. I am 
deeply interested in you both, and I shall do what 
I can to give your War romance a happy ending. 
By the way, your name seems familiar to me. 
Where have I heard it? Let me think.’’ 

The lighted lamp on the table gave a silvery 
lustre to his white hair as he sat tapping his fingers 
together, his brow slightly puckered in a puzzled 
frown. 

Ah! I have it! ” he rose and picked up a folded 
newspaper which lay among some books at the 
other end of the table. Your name is here in the 
citations for bravery, and you are to be decorated 
next Friday. My boy, I am proud to know you! ” 
He held out his hand. 

Tom stood blushing like a schoolboy detected in 
wrong-doing. He floundered for speech, his mind 
submerged in a morass of embarrassment. 

I—er—I—oh! ” He ceased shuffling his feet 
as, looking down, his glance fell upon a framed pho¬ 
tograph on the table. It was Ted Alden, a hand¬ 
some youth, eager, impetuous, defiant, with a dare- 




236 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


devil tilt of the head which seemed to challenge the 
world. There was something strangely familiar 
about the face. Tom^s eye grew misty, and the pic¬ 
ture changed into the haggard, haunted face of the 
man he had known in the trenches,—the world- 
stained, unyouthful Ted who had recklessly courted 
danger, carrying his life like a banner to the victory 
of a gallant death. 

Tom was sure of his ground now. His chum was 
Ted Alden. He tried to speak, but words refused 
to come. 

I always read these accounts of our brave lads,^^ 
the old man rambled on, and I rejoice over them 
heartily, for I seem to share the joy and pride of the 
parents whose sons’ gallantry has been recognized 
and rewarded by a grateful country. Three sons 
of mine gave their lives, like thousands of others; 
but to them did not come the opportunity of heroic 
deeds that stir mankind. ^ Theirs but to do and 
die’—they simply fought and fell. So I take a 
vicarious pleasure in the glory of others.” 

There is something more I want to tell you, 
sir.” Tom spoke slowly. '' Maybe we’d better sit 
down. It’ll take some time.” 

Take all the time you want, my boy,” rejoined 
Mr. Alden cheerfully. I never retire early. At 
my age, there is so little time left for living that I 
grudge the hours lost in sleep.” 



Morning's Joy 


237 


Tliey did not return to the other end of the table. 
Mr. Alden seated himself in the chair he always oc¬ 
cupied when writing, and Tom drew up another. 

There was a chap I knew in the army,’’ began 
Tom. His name was—Ted Anderson.” 

“ Ted? ” the word fell like a sigh from the old 
man’s lips, and he involuntarily touched the photo¬ 
graph on the table. 

I want to tell you about him, sir. He was a 
wonderful pal to me.” 

The story was told in stumbling phrases, very 
simply, but with more intimate details than he had 
given Nancy. Many conversations between his com¬ 
rade and himself, indelibly stamped on his memory, 
were related word for word. 

A noble death! ” observed Mr. Alden when Tom 
paused, struggling for composure after describing 
Ted’s gallant action. “And the letter, the photo¬ 
graph? Of course you sent them to the brave fel¬ 
low’s father and wrote to him? Ah!” the man’s 
eyes were filled with longing. “ I can understand 
what that wandering boy’s letter and your story of 
his death would bring to the heart-broken father! 
^ The peace of God which passeth all understand¬ 
ing.’ ” 

“ I was unable to send them, sir. The explosion 
came before I had time to put them in my pocket, 
and they were torn from my hands. I had only 



238 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


looked at the photograph, and hadn’t seen the name 
and address on the letter. So I could do nothing.” 

That is unfortunate,” murmured Mr. Alden. 

Somewhere a lonely father is grieving and pray¬ 
ing for his son, and the prayer must remain unan¬ 
swered until God’s own time.” 

But I remember the old man’s face, sir! ” 
Tom’s voice rose eagerly. I was looking at it when 
that bomb came over and blew our trench to pieces. 
It seems to be photographed on my mind. The 
memory of that face has haunted me like a ghost; 
and to-night,—I saw the face—again! ” Tom felt 
as though he had leapt across a chasm. 

^^You saw the face to-night? Here,—in Cass- 
burn? ” 

I wanted to speak to you about it as soon as I 
came to you; but somehow the words wouldn’t 
come. I couldn’t be sure. I thought that my mem¬ 
ory was playing a trick on me. But this picture,” 
he pointed to the photograph on the table between 
them, ^Hells me beyond a doubt that you are my 
chum’s father. This is the man I knew as Ted 
Anderson! ” 

The old man sank to his knees beside the table, 
with Ted’s picture in his hands. Tears trickled 
slowly from his closed eyes, his lips quivered, but 
he uttered no words. Before Tom’s awed gaze the 
bending, shrunken form seemed to be surrounded 




Morning's Joy 


239 


with the white glory of God^s throne. He stood in 
silence and bowed his head. 

Presently Mr. Alden rose to his feet. He took 
the photograph from the table and turned to the 
flag on the wall. His fingers fumbled and flut¬ 
tered over the wall until he touched a small nail. 
There was a metal ring on the frame of Ted’s pic¬ 
ture, but the old man’s trembling fingers were un¬ 
able to adjust it to the projecting nail. 

Let me help you, sir! ” Tom sprang forward. 

In a moment the picture was in place beside the 
three, and a fold of the flag draped its frame. 

^ For this my son was dead, and is alive again; 
he was lost and is found.’ ” The father turned to 
Tom with a radiant smile of cloudless love. 



CHAPTER XXI 


GRANNIE 

Dick^s car jolted along on a flat tire tlirougli a 
downrnsli of rain, wliicli descended in perpendicu¬ 
lar lines like Japanese bead curtains. 

Wbat a joy-ride! chortled Nancy, as they 
turned into Cedar Street where the squelching mud 
sounded like eggs being crushed under the wheels. 

I’ll never forget it. Oh! I believe it is going to 
clear, now that we have acquired a thorough soak¬ 
ing ! Get out of your wet clothes at once, Dick, or 
you’ll take cold.” 

The same to you, old dear,” he laughed. 

You’re as wet as I am.” 

When the car halted before the Graysons’ gate 
the sun burst forth through the wind-driven clouds, 
making the wet world a dazzling glory. Nancy, 
drenched and dripping, waved a laughing farewell 
to Dick and ran up the path to the house, jumping 
lightly aside to avoid puddles and receiving show¬ 
ers of raindrops from the syringas and lilacs as 
she brushed against them. 

When she reached the steps the door opened and 
Harry appeared. There was an air of subdued ex¬ 
citement about him. His face was glowing beneath 
its freckles and his eyes blinked rapidly, as though 

240 


Gi ^annie 


241 


they were trying to make a startling announcement 
before his lips could utter it. 

Don’t know enough to come in when it rains, 
do you? ” he remarked, as she began to wring 
streams of water from her skirt. My eye! ^ what 
fools these mortals be ’! ” 

Nancy laughed merrily and shook her dripping 
hat in his face. 

Things have happened since you left the house,” 
he continued. You’ve missed the grand sensa¬ 
tional surprise of our lives. And now,—^you’ll 
never guess who’s turned up! ” 

^^Not Father?” her face paled. 

“ Guess again! ” he smiled mysteriously. Ham¬ 
mer some think-tacks into your brain and guess 
again! ” 

I can’t guess! It couldn’t be any one else but 
Father! Has he come?” 

Harry grinned. Hold on to something, or you’ll 
drop when I tell you. About an hour ago Jim 
Deane’s Peace Ship sailed down the lane and depos¬ 
ited a stranger at our gate,—our stepmaw!’’ 

^‘Whatf^^ gasped Nancy, feeling as though a 
bomb had exploded and scattered her wits. Our 
stepmother? Oh! wh-wh-what is she like?” 

She’s like a frightened mouse; a weepy-looking 
little lady, dressed in black. Don’t trouble to 
change your wet clothes before you meet her. She’ll 


1 



242 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


probably slop over and weep on your neck and give 
you another soaking.^^ 

‘‘ Where is she? 

In the living-room having a long jawbation with 
Oonah, who made her a cup of tea and shooed us 
away after the first greetings were over. Gee! I 
wish you^d been here. Monica was the only one 
that had any presence of mind when Stepmaw 
told us who she was. They cottoned up to each 
other at once; but the rest of us,—Oh, glory be! 

“What did you do? What did you say? ques¬ 
tioned Nancy. 

“Do? Say? Nothing.’’ The last word thudded 
from Harry’s lips. “ Joan gasped and looked like 
a sick codfish. Then she let out a wild squawk 
and scooted. The twins were dumb for the first 
time in their lives. They stared with eyes and 
mouths wide open, and looked as if they had swal¬ 
lowed their tongues. I stuttered and curled up into 
a hoop and rolled around the room. Then Oonah 
came out of her trance and told us to clear out, 
which we gladly did. 

“ So, run along, kid, and behave pretty. It’s up 
to you to restore the honor of the family and give 
Stepmaw a proper welcome. That’s why I came 
out to warn you.” 

“I’ll change first,” murmured Nancj^, and she 
whisked up the stairs to her bedroom. 




Grannie 


243 


A few minutes later slie descended to the living- 
room. Her hair was still wet and hung loose, the 
moisture dripping like beads on the towel she had 
pinned about her shoulders to protect her green 
gingham dress. 

A small pine-log was burning in the grate and 
diffusing a spicy odor. Oonah had lighted a fire 
to banish the dampness that lurked like a ghost in 
the old walls and came forth at the call of rain. 
Oonah was standing before the fire, gazing down at 
the stranger who sat almost buried in a large arm¬ 
chair which was in sore need of an upholsterer^s 
ministrations. 

Mrs. Grayson looked up with a startled air when 
Nancy entered the room. She was a slender little 
woman, fragile as a windflower, with an abundance 
of silvery-white hair and a thin, pathetic face. Her 
small hands, wrinkled and blue-veined, fluttered 
helplessly like withered leaves, as she made an 
effort to rise from the deep hollow seat. 

This is Nancy, the oldest wan av the family,” 
announced Oonah. ^^An^ I’ll be lavin’ you to get 
acquainted by y’rsilves, I will. It’s news she has 
fer you, Nancy darlint; news that’ll hit you loike a 
bump on the head an’ make you see stars, I’m 
thinkin’. Shure, my feelin’s is all anyhow, an’ 
that’s the truth! ” 

Nancy came forward. The little woman again 



244 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


tried to lift herself from the chair; but Nancy 
knelt beside her and took the trembling hands in 
hers. 

This is a great surprise/’ she said gently. I’m 
sorry I wasn’t at home when you arrived.” 

I should have written before coming,” replied 
Mrs. Grayson, but I wasn’t sure whether you had 
heard of me, and I hardly knew what to say. And 
I wanted to see you all,—oh, so badly! I hope you 
don’t mind my coming like this! ” the soft tones 
ended with a sigh. 

Mind? ” echoed Nancy. “ Of course not! ” Her 
face blossomed into a smile as she gave her step¬ 
mother’s hands a caressing squeeze. But what is 
the news? Is—Father coming?” 

No—no,” Mrs. Grayson hesitated. You must 
have often wondered why I didn’t come to see you 
before, why I didn’t write; but, you see, I didn’t 
know until—the other day that there were any 
children. Your father had never spoken of you, 
and-” 

Father has usually overlooked us,” observed 
Nancy drily. But I’m glad you have found out 
about us at last and that you’ve come. I hope you 
will stay. We are a rough-and-tumble family, not 
the sort of children one would expect Father to 
have. But I hope you will like us. I’m sure we 
shall like you. You have won my heart already.” 




Grannie 


245 


It is good to hear you say that, my dear.’’ 

You know,” Nancy tossed back her hair which 
was gradually drying and fluffing into crinkly curls 
about her face, you aren’t in the least like what 
we imagined our stepmother would be, when Father 
wrote and told us that he was married again.” 

That’s what dear little Monica told me. She 
said I was more like a kind little Grannie than a 
stepmother; and the dear child called me Grannie.” 

But you aren’t old enough to be our grand¬ 
mother ; at least, not mine,” protested Nancy. 

I’m forty-nine, and I feel and look much older. 
But I hope you will all call me ^ Grannie.’ It is 
such a loving, little name. I wouldn’t ask or ex¬ 
pect you to call me ^ Mother.’ I have no right to 
that.” 

Then you shall be Grannie, our own little Gran¬ 
nie ! ” Nancy snuggled against the chair. And 
now. Grannie, let me hear your news.” 

Kaindrops from the wind-stirred vines tapped on 
the closed windows. The Are crackled cheerily, and 
the bright copper kettle hanging on the crane purled 
and bubbled over the flames. 

I’d like to tell you all about myself,” began Mrs. 
Grayson in her slow, shy way. “I want you to 
know everything, to understand how I came to 
marry your father. I have only a vague memory 
of my parents. They died when I was quite a small 



246 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


child, and I was brought up by my grandfather and 
his sister. They were a strange pair, morose, 
austere, penurious, and unsociable. We had no 
friends,—^we lived quite alone. 

‘^For a few years there was a servant, a grim, 
silent, elderly woman, but when she died I did the 
housework. There was a great deal to do, sheer 
drudgery. My aunt was a cripple. I had to wait 
on her and I spent hours every day, and often far 
into the night, reading aloud to my grandfather. 
That endless reading was my only education. I 
donT regret it now, but at the time I felt I was 
just a reading-machine and I didnT realize the good 
it was doing me. But now I know it saved me from 
becoming a clod. 

Our home was really sordid. My grandfather 
was so miserly that our scanty meals often closely 
bordered on starvation. Sometimes I went to bed 
hungry, and I often prayed that I might die before 
another day came.’’ 

Oh! what an awful life! ” cried Nancy. 

So I grew old,” the murmuring voice went on, 
without knowing what it was like to be young. 
When the aunt died I was glad ,—glad to be freed 
from her exacting ways and the whining voice that 
had never given me a kind word. It was wicked of 
me to rejoice over her death; but I couldn’t help 
it.” 




“Then you shall be Grannie, our own little Grannie!” 

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Grannie 


247 


I should think not! ’’ broke in Nancy passion¬ 
ately. 

Two years ago my grandfather died and I was 
left quite alone in the world. I had no friends. 
The day after his death, when I was wondering 
how I could possibly manage to live,—I had no 
money and there was no food left in the house—a 
strange man came to the house, my grandfather’s 
lawyer. He told me that I was very wealthy; that 
my grandfather had died without a will and, as I 
was his only remaining relative, his fortune was 
mine. He was very kind and gentle with me. I 
was so timid, so shy, he must have thought me half¬ 
witted. I couldn’t realize it all. 

For a few months I lived on at the dreary home. 
I was too dazed and frightened to leave. At last I 
woke from my stupor and went to New York, to 
spend my money and, as I thought, to learn to be 
happy. 

I bought wonderful clothes, went to a beauty 
parlor regularly and was massaged, manicured, and 
shampooed. I went to the theatre, but I soon gave 
that up. The plays were so queer, so—improper. 
I used to take one of the maids at the hotel where 
I was staying. I didn’t know any one else. She 
liked all the plays except one of Shakespeare’s,— 
Cymbeline. I hadn’t read it and I thought that, 
being Shakespeare, it would be all right. But, my 




248 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


dear, it liad a bedroom in it, just like all tbe others! 
So Gladys and I left the theatre. 

By and by, I got to know people who were stay¬ 
ing at the hotel. They seemed kind and friendly, 
but I always felt that they were secretly laughing 
at me. I was so stupidly shy. Then I drifted into 
War Charities. I subscribed to everything, for I 
was glad to be able to spend my money in such 
a wonderful way. 

Then I—^met your father.’’ A faint flush spread 
over the pale face. It was at a charity bazaar 
in which society people were interested. Your 
father was one of the organizers. I was serving at 
one of the booths, selling Flemish lace. We were 
introduced and I—fell in love with him. It seems 
foolish for a woman of my years to speak of love; 
but, Nancy dear, I had never known youth, never 
known beauty, never known love, and he seemed to 
personify all three; all the glamor and sparkle of 
life that I had missed. 

^^When he asked me to marry him I felt as 
though the gods were offering me a cup brimming 
with the wine of youth. Of course, I knew that he 
didn’t really care for me. He was immensely pop¬ 
ular with women, and I was not the sort of woman 
that could possibly attract him. It was—my 
money. I knew that. But it made me feel young 
just to care for him, to hear him talk in his bright. 



Grannie 


249 


clever way. His charm and youthful appearance 
seemed to hypnotize me. To be near him fed an 
aching, hungry want in my heart. 

So we were married. For some reason, he never 
mentioned his children. I canT understand why. 
It would have made me so happy to have known you 
all. At his suggestion I bought a country place in 
Long Island, but he was seldom there and I was 
very lonely. He practically lived in New York, at 
his Club.’^ 

“ Father was never a home man,^’ observed 
Nancy. I hope he is—kind to you,’’ she added, 
remembering Mr. Grayson’s selfishness and irri¬ 
table temper. 

Oh, yes! He was always extremely courteous 
and kind in an easy, careless way. But I had no 
place in his life. We seemed to live in different 
worlds. Yes, he was always very affable and kind, 
—and fascinating at times.” 

^^When he wanted money, I suppose,” thought 
Nancy, biting her lips to restrain the utterance. 

Two weeks ago he went to the Adirondacks, to 
visit some wealthy society friends at their summer 
camp. He was out riding and his horse threw him. 
I was sent for, and-” 

Was he hurt? ” cried Nancy. Is he ill? Oh! 
you are wearing black,—Father is—dead! ” 

Mrs. Grayson leaned forward and encircled the 




250 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 

girl with, her arms, holding her close with a tremu¬ 
lous agitation. For a short time there was silence. 

I suppose I ought to cry,’^ Nancy said presently, 
but I can’t—I can’t cry! I feel as though I were 
suffocating. Father is dead, and I can’t, I don’t 
even want to cry.” 

I understand, Nancy dear. It was in examin¬ 
ing your father’s letters and papers that I learned 
of his children. So I came here at once, to love you 
and to try to win your affection. I am all alone in 
the world, and it will make me very happy if you 
and the others will give me a place in your lives, if 
you can learn to love me after a time.” 

I have learned already! ” Nancy started up and 
sat on the arm of the chair. Grannie dear, I’m 
glad you came to us! ” She kissed her impulsively, 
and her golden curls mingled with the silvery waves 
of the woman’s hair. 

The younger Graysons received the news of their 
father’s death with a stoical, half-shamed indif¬ 
ference. He had entered their lives so seldom that 
he seemed remote, unreal, like a character in a book. 
The heartless, unfatherly treatment he had always 
accorded them, during his brief visits at home, had 
stultified their affection and had created a gulf be¬ 
tween them which was never bridged by under¬ 
standing, filial or paternal. 

Flip and Flop, lured by the smell of cinnamon 



Grannie 


251 


buns Oonah was baking for supper, went to tbe 
kitchen and watched her in silence as she scraped 
the rolling-pin and pastry-board. She did not 
shake the rolling-pin at them and say,—Gwan 
widger! ”, the greeting they usually received when 
they entered her domain uninvited. When she 
drew the pan from the oven they sniffed blissfully. 
Then—oh, miracle of miracles!—she detached two 
sugary, steaming segments from the sheet of buns 
and pushed them across the table. 

There, put yersilves outside av thim buns.” 

Umm-umm! ” they sighed and sniffed, giving 
the hot buns wary touches. 

Oonah,” began Flip after his second swallow, 
^^are you sorry Father’s dead? ” 

Divil a bit, an’ more’s the pity,” was Oonah’s 
response. ^^An’ there’s nary a drap me eyes’ll be 
spillin’ ’nless I peel onions.” 

Is there any of that wrinkly black stuff in the 
house to make bands for our arms, like the one Mr. 
Hertz wore on his sleeve when Ms father died? ” 
asked Flop. I’d like to wear a black band so’s 
strangers ’d know we had a dead relation in the 
family.” 

Crape bands, is it? Huh! I’m thinkin’ the 
only band you’ll iver wear on y’r arrums’ll be hand¬ 
cuffs, there’s divil a doubt av that. 'Now, gwan an’ 
wash y’r hands and faces. Wid the Lorrud afther 



252 "" The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


givin^ you moutlis to ate wid, for why would you be 
tryin’ to ate wid yer ears? ’’ 

That evening the conversation at the supper- 
table, usually so mirthful and unruly, limped 
through a bog of depression. There were broken 
remarks and brief requests for things to be passed 
along the table, scattered here and there through 
the gloomy silence. Towards the end of the meal 
Joan, who had not opened the book beside her plate, 
suddenly gave way to a fit of hysterical weeping. 

I’m not sorry Father’s dead! ” she declared wdth 
gulping sobs, ^‘but if I don’t cry, I shall laugh. 
It’s awful not to be sorry! It’s wicked to feel like 
laughing, but I can’t help it. It wasn’t our fault 
that we didn’t love him. He never loved us; and 
now he is dead, we can’t feel sorry. It’s awful not 
to care! ” 



CHAPTER XXn 


SPREADING THE NEWS 

It was sunrise time tlie next morning, and Oonah 
was the only one astir in the Grayson home. The 
kitchen door was wide open, and the morning- 
glories that curtained its porch were massed with 
pink, white, purple, and lavender blossoms; shy 
nun-flowers that would soon close with shrinking 
modesty beneath the bold, staring gaze of the sun. 

The garden was still impearled with dew, and the 
new day was sparkling with light and joy. Early 
birds were twittering over their proverbial break¬ 
fast in the rich soil which the worms had riddled 
with their diminutive excavations. 

My sowl to glory! iv Misther Grayson iver did 
wan dacint thing in his loife, it was marryin’ that 
angel woman! ” Oonah was truculently trium¬ 
phant, as though defying contradiction of her state¬ 
ment which was made to her own reflection in the 
small mirror over the kitchen sink. An’ that’s the 
truth! ” she continued, jerking the roller-towel as 
she dried her hands. ^^An’ the Lorrud put His 
good grace on the marriage by makin’ her a widdy. 
He did, an’ sendin’ her here. 

It’s wishin’ I am, wid a heart an’ a half, that 

253 


254 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


that sainted mother up in hivin knows av the 
blissin’ that’s come to her children. Stepmother in- 
dade? That’s no name fer that swate, tendher- 
hearted little woman! Shure, it’s ^ Grannie ’ she is, 
an’ that’s a name that grows in the heart like a 
flower! ” 

Flip and Flop were eager to apprise Dick of Mrs. 
Grayson’s arrival, and, as soon as they were 
dressed, they scampered over the dew-drenched 
lawns of Cedarwold to tell him the wonderful news. 
They disregarded the formality of ringing the bell, 
and ran through the house until they found Noki 
in the breakfast-room. 

Honorable Bloss making blig splash in the bath- 
tlub,” was the Jap’s answer to their breathless in¬ 
quiries as to Dick’s whereabouts. 

Upstairs they went, and battered with their 
flsts on the locked door of Dick’s bathroom. The 
only response to their onslaught of blows was the 
sound of running and splashing water, which 
formed an accompaniment to Dick’s quavering ren¬ 
dition of a lovesick ditty about the days of old 
when knights were bold.” As he shivered with 
shuddering gasps and groans under a cold shower, 
he produced an original version of the warrior’s 
description of his lady love, which robbed the song 
of its sentimental charm. 



Spreading the News 


255 


M-m-my love is y-y-young-ng-ng and fair, 

M-my love hath 1-1-light bl-bl-blue hair, 

And eyes s-s-s-so g-g-gold. 

And heart s-s-so c-c-c-cold-d-dd—er—er- 

The tremolo ceased when the water was suddenly 
turned off, and a rapid fire of vigorous slapping 
ensued. 

“ Captain Dick—oh, Di-ick! they called. 

'' Y-Y-Yes—who^s there? 

It^s us, and Grannie’s here, and we want to 
come in. Open the door—Grannie’s here! ” 

Grannie’s here? ” repeated Dick, and then 
added quickly in a wild shout of alarm when they 
rattled the door-knob, She can’t come in— she 
can’t come in! Who the dickens is Grannie? I 
didn’t know you had one.” 

“Father’s dead and she’s our widow, our step¬ 
mother,” said Flip. 

“ An’ we call her ^ Grannie,’ ’cause she’s nice,” ex¬ 
plained Flop. 

“Stepmother?” ejaculated Dick. “My word! 
Did you say that your father was-” 

“ Yes, he’s dead, an’ we’re orphans,—there’s divil 
a doubt av that! ” was Flip’s cheerful response. 

“We’re not erzactly orphans,” Flop amended, 
“ ’cause we’ve got Grannie an’ she’s adopted us. 
We’re adopticated orphans.” 





256 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


Lord love a duck! was all the astonished Dick 
could say. 

A few minutes later he appeared. See here, 
you kids,—are you mad or am I dreaming? he 
demanded. 

We’re not mad, we’re glad ’cause Grannie’s 
here,” answered Flip. Come over and see Gran¬ 
nie. She’s a good old sport.” 

She’s a peach,” contributed Flop. 

I’ll come over after breakfast and meet the par¬ 
agon,” laughed Dick. So fade away. I want to 
shave and dress and—er—recover my wits. You’ve 
given me shell-shock. I’m on the verge of gibber¬ 
ing idiocy. Meditation and prayer I must have! 
Scoot! ” he snapped his fingers. “ By the way, 
there’s a circus coming to Bradbury next week, 
and-” 

Oh! are you going to take us? ” They hurled 
themselves at him, making him stagger. 

That depends,” he said slowly, as he surveyed 
their eager faces with a teasing smile. You’ll 
have to earn the treat, so toddle along or-” 

They w^ere out of the room before his sentence 
was finished. 

Whew! ” whistled Dick, and presently his be¬ 
wildered face was covered with a mask of soapy 
lather. 

When he went over to meet Mrs. Grayson his 





Spreading the News 257 

mind was still groping in a fog of amazement. He 
liad a vague sense of being only half-awake, and the 
twins’ startling announcement of their widowed 
stepmother’s arrival seemed like the hazy recollec¬ 
tion of a dream. 

The Grayson garden was full of song and sun¬ 
shine and cool, blossom-scented breezes. He saw 
the family grouped under a venerable apple-tree 
that made an island of shade in the centre of the 
law, and they were a charming picture with the 
sunlight glancing through the leaves and tracing 
golden arabesques over them all. 

Hick hurried forward with outstretched hands. 
Grannie,” he began, I’m going to call you 
‘ Grannie ’ because I insist on your adopting me 
wdth the rest of the family. I’ve always wanted a 
Grannie, so ”—^he leaned over with a gay, boyish 
laugh, I’m going to kiss you! ” 

Grannie’s face lighted up with one of her rare, 
lovely smiles. A faint flush of shy, tremulous hap¬ 
piness flooded her thin cheeks, and her tear-bright, 
gray eyes gleamed as though they were reflecting 
the silver sheen of her hair. 

What a dear big boy you are! ” she said. 

Haney has told me about you. I’m so glad there 
is a romance in the family! ” 

And I’m glad there’s a Grannie like you in the 
family! ” He sat on the rustic bench beside her. 



258 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 

Now, I want to celebrate. There’s to be a lunch¬ 
eon-party to-day at my house, with Grannie as the 
guest of honor. You’re all invited, and we’ll have 
a regular Oh-be-joyful jamboree to welcome this 
^ dear little grannie into the family! ” 

The news of Mr. Grayson’s death and the coming 
of the unknown Mrs. Grayson occasioned much 
buzzing excitement in Watch-and-Pry Corner. 

When all’s said an’ done, a father’s a father! ” 
Miss Louella expounded to the women who were in 
her bay-window. ^^An’ when a father’s dead, it’s 
the duty o’ his children to wear sackcloth an’ ashes, 
an’ not put on soft raiment like the good-for-noth¬ 
ing Graysons is doin’, I say.” 

Just so,” wheezed Mrs. Hertz. An’ there ain’t 
a sign o’ black on one o’ them children, not even a 
crape sleeve-band! An’ Nancy’s wearin’ nothin’ but 
white, which ain’t fit an’ proper with her father 
jes’ laid away in his grave.” 

^^Well, I don’t know as I blame Nancy for not 
puttin’ on black these hot days,” said Mrs. Talbot. 
^^With Mr. Grayson bein’ what he was, an’ livin’ 
away from his family like he did, his death won’t 
seem anythin’ more to his family than a long visit 
he’s payin’ somewheres without them knowin’ his 
address. An’ I vow he’s gettin’ all the respect he 
deserves when his widow sees that he’s buried de¬ 
cent an’ puts on her weeds o’ mournin’. Mrs. Gray- 



Spreading the News 


259 


son is real sweet-lookin^, an’ tlie children is as fond 
o’ her like as if they were her own.” 

As the Holy Writ says, you may look as harm¬ 
less as doves an’ be as wise as serpents, especially 
if you’re a widow in a crape veil, I say.” Miss 
Louella paused to sniff. ^^An’ las’ Sunday in 
church I took a good look at Mrs. Grayson sittin’ 
in the family pew like patience on a footstool an’ 
lookin’ as if butter was meltin’ in her mouth; an’ 
I says to myself,—^ There’s the wisdom of a serpent 
under that harmless dove’s face, that’s what! ’ ” 
The Graysons is certainly lookin’ up, with a 
rich stepmother an’ Nancy engaged to young Dick 
Thorold,” observed Mrs. Wiggins. 

Seems like folks won’t be callin’ them ^ the good- 
for-nothing Graysons ’ now,” said Mrs. Talbot with 
a superior smile. 

Miss Louella snorted. ^^Many a house is built 
upon sand, an’, as fer that family,—^well, as the 
Holy Writ says, you can’t gather grapes o’ thorns 
or figs o’ thistles any more’n you can make a silk 
purse out o’ a sow’s ear.” 

There was a brief lull in the conversation while 
Miss Louella handed the mail-bag to Jim Deane, 
who was on his way to the station to meet the after¬ 
noon train. Jim greeted the women with a nod of 
the head and a howdy,” and hurried out to his 
Peace Ship, which was laden with its usual cargo 



260 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


of cliildren, who looked upon the short journey in 
Jim’s coughing, rattling car as a veritable joy-ride. 

“ A letter came this morning for Susan Avery,” 
Miss Louella informed her visitors, when she re¬ 
turned to the bay-window. It was from that sol¬ 
dier fellow. He’s in New York again.” 

Susan’s another lucky girl,” remarked Mrs. 
Wiggins, “ gettin’ ready fer her weddin’ like she is; 
an’ they say that young McGillicuddy is quite well 
off. I never thought that Susan’d be able to catch 
a husband, her bein’ afflicted with a harelip. Of 
course, his face is awful scarred, but bein’ disfigured 
don’t count ’gainst a man like it does with a girl.” 

I think Susan is lookin’ real pretty these days. 
Her cheeks are rosy an’ her eyes sparklin’,” said 
Mrs. Talbot. “ I vow, happiness has changed her 
a lot.” 

Well, as the Holy Writ says, you can’t put new 
wine in old bottles any more’n you can put beauty 
into a girl’s face if the Lord, in His wisdom an’ 
mercy, has seen fit to give her a harelip. This mar¬ 
riage o’ Susan’s looks like a good thing, an’ I’m 
hopin’ she won’t regret it. But to my mind, it’s a 
risl?y business marryin’ an’ goin’ ’way out west with 
a man that’s been soldierin’ in France; that coun¬ 
try that’s filled with French girls, whose favor is 
deceitful an’ whose beauty is vain. Susan may find 
that her weddin’ cake’s jes’ dough, I say.” 



Spreading the News 


261 


Mr. Aldeii says tliat Tom McGillicuddy is a fine 
young man/’ declared Mrs. Talbot. he’s 

found out all about bis character ’n’ everythin’.” 

Miss Louella tossed her head. The Keverend 
Niggle always thinks well of everybody. That’s 
jes’ a vray he’s got, an’ it’s mighty foolish, I say. 
The other day I spoke to him ’bout Jessie Neve. I 
said that, with her elopement bein’ known ’bout like 
it was, it seemed he was makin’ a mistake lettin’ 
her approach the Communion Table; an’ he looked 
at me with that queer smile he has an’ said: ‘ The 
greatest of these is charity.’ Huh! ” 

I vow, I’m sorry fer Jessie,” put in Mrs. Tal¬ 
bot, ^^an’ I think folks ought to be kind to her. 
She’s so quiet an’ sad, an’ it’s jes’ fine the way she’s 
helpin’ her mother now,—doin’ the housework an’ 
gettin’ the garden in order. Maybe she was a bit 
foolish, but, my sakes! she’s tryin’ to live it down! ” 
I hear the measles has broken out real bad over 
to Bradbury,” began Mrs. Hertz irrelevantly, “ an’ 
I guess I won’t take my Eric to the circus to-mor¬ 
row. He hasn’t had ’em yet; an’ it’d be temptin’ 
the Lord to do His worst if I took that child into 
a crowd that’s full o’ measles an’ pickpockets.” 

My grief an’ patience! ” cried Mrs. Wiggins. 

An’ I was plannin’ to take Hazel. She’s jes’ crazy 
to go. All the Graysons is goin’. Dick Thorold’s 
goin’ to take ’em, the twins told Hazel.” 



262 "" The Good-f or-Nothing Graysons'' 


Then I’ll call over the hack fence when I get 
home an^ tell Oonah they’d better not go/’ an¬ 
nounced Mrs. Hertz. We don’t want any one 
bringin’ measles to Cassburn.” 

It’d be jes’ like the twins to get measles an’ 
spread ’em all over the village,” declared Miss Lou- 
ella. They’d glory in doin’ a thing like that! 
fillin’ the place with plagues an’ pestilences, an’ 
makin’ Cassburn a valley o’ dry bones, that’s 
what! ” 

It’s a measly shame! ” sobbed Flop, when she 
and Flip were told that the eagerly awaited trip to 
the circus was not to take place. 

^^We wouldn’t get the measles, we just 
wouldn’t! ” Flip assured Dick. Besides, you 
promised to take us to the circus, an’ it’s a wicked 
sin to break your promise! ” 

I tell you what we’ll do,” said Dick cheerfully. 
^^We can’t go to the circus, that’s flat; but we’ll 
have a picnic instead. We’ll all crowd into the car 
and go up to Windy Hill. What do you say to 
that? ” 

It’ll be better’n doing nothing,” Flop admitted 
grudgingly, but it won’t make up for missing the 
circus! ” 



CHAPTER XXIII 


BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL 

The road to Windy Hill skirted the edge of Brad¬ 
bury, and as Dick’s car, with its occupants packed 
like a box of figs,” as Joan observed, glided past the 
town, they caught a glimpse of the circus tents be¬ 
decked with fluttering flags, and heard broken 
strains of band music which brought forth wails of 
disappointment from Flip and Flop. 

The weather was cool and sparkling, with a high 
wind making holiday among the clouds, massing 
them together like gigantic bales of wool, then tear¬ 
ing and pulling them apart and blowing them in 
thin, white fleeces across the vivid blue sky. 

It was a short, steep, tortuous ascent up the 
sparsely wooded eastern slope of the hill to the bare 
summit, where great rocks towered like the embat- 
tlements of an impregnable fortress, an aery of the 
wind. Half-way was an old sandstone quarry, and 
there the scant oaks gave up the weary climb and 
lagged behind the stunted pines and firs that strag¬ 
gled upward among boulders and cliffs, as though 
determined to reach the old-time forest that grew on 
the sunset side of the hill. 

They saw Jerry among the bushes and mulleins 
that grew in the quarry, his great, upright form 

263 


264 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


drawn to its full heiglit as lie stood with arms out¬ 
stretched, gazing at the sky. His hair was glorified 
by the sun and his loose, baggy smock repeated the 
color of the vast blue roof of the world. 

He looks like a Sun God,^^ said Nancy. Isn’t 
he a magnificent figure? He makes me think of 

^ Baldur the Beautiful, 

God of the summer sun, 

Fairest of all the gods! ’ ” 

They left the car near the quarry and walked up 
over the crest of the hill; and then down through 
the green dimness of the woods, following the wind¬ 
ings of a chattering brook until it broadened into 
the silence of a deep pool, which slipped smoothly 
over a rock and descended in a curtain of lacy 
spray. Gnats danced in the air and dipped in the 
pool, making wrinkles and whorls in its glassy 
surface which was flecked with amber gleams of 
sunlight. 

There was a small plateau beside the pool over¬ 
looking the massed trees below, an open space of 
ground spongy with brown pine-needles through 
which tiny insects wandered like walking jewels 
of bright green and red. 

This is the spot,” announced Dick, as he and 
Harry set the lunch baskets on the ground. I dis¬ 
covered it the other day and immediately planned 
for a picnic. A cushy little corner, isn’t it? ” 



Baldur the Beautiful'' 


265 


Oil, it’s a wonderful place! ” cried Nancy. I’d 
mucli rather be here than in that hot, noisy, saw- 
dusty circus tent, with all sorts of people chewing 
gum and peanuts and crowding against us. It is 
hard to realize that all that racket and shoddy glit¬ 
ter is only a mile and a half away from this peace¬ 
ful spot. Here, we are next door to heaven! ” 
Grannie, sit here on this log,” said Dick. Na¬ 
ture has upholstered it with moss, to make a throne 
for you and Nancy. Monica, my little sweetheart, 
here is your place.” He spread out a rug near the 
log. The rest of you may bestoiv yourselves as 
you please. My place is at Nancy’s feet.” 

Joan strolled oft with a book, and Harry disap¬ 
peared down-stream with his fishing-rod. Flip and 
Flop went over to a group of white birches, where 
they discovered a spring trickling from a rock in 
silver threads which soaked into the mossy soil. 
They busied themselves in digging a Kiver Tiber, 
and within half an hour they had built a city of 
twigs and pebbles which they named after the 
ancient city that wasn’t built in a day.” 

Grannie took her work from the cretonne bag 
which hung on her arm. The fine filet lace seemed 
to flow from her fingers, as her hook flashed up and 
down with a fairy magic that transformed the pro¬ 
saic balls of cotton into a filmy fantasy of rosebuds. 

Monica smiled with a wistful sigh of content, as 



266 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 

she curled herself comfortably on the rug. Dick, 
with his hands clasped behind his head, looked up 
at Nancy's face aureoled with her breeze-ruffled 
hair, and saw his heaven in her eyes. Squirrels 
cheeped and scurried about, making the branches 
quiver as they leaped lightly from tree to tree. A 
white moon lingered in the clear blue sky, like a 
little lost cloud. 

Look at the ghost-moon!" said Monica dream¬ 
ily. It has followed the sun, like Mary's little 
lamb that ^ followed her to school one day' ; and 
the breezes are like children laughing to see a moon 
in daytime. I love the woods! The trees are so 
wonderful and wise, especially the pines. This 
great pine over us must be very old. It looks as 
though it had been growing here ever since there 
was any remembering in the world. And through 
all the years the winds have come to it with stories 
of what men are doing in the world; and at night 
God has covered the sky with star-writings of what 
men are dreaming. So, although it has always 
lived in this lonely place, it knows all the secrets 
of life, all the dreams and deeds of men. Listen 
to its whispering music! We aren't wise enough to 
understand its language, so it seems to be saying 
over and over,—^ Mystery, mystery, mystery.' I 
hope there will be trees in heaven, trees and 
flowers." 




" Baldur the Beautiful 


267 


With a drowsy sigh she closed her eyes, and 
presently she slept. Very fair and fragile she 
looked, on the dark plaid rug. Her long, wavy hair, 
faintly rising and falling with her regular breath¬ 
ing, concealed her misshapen shoulders like a veil. 

Dear little girl! whispered Dick, as he gently 
drew a corner of the rug over her. What a quaint 
little dreamer she is! 

Nancy sighed. I wish she were stronger, that 
she would play with dolls, and be more like other 
children of her age. She has never cared for toys 
and games. Sometimes I fear we let her read too 
much. She has a wonderful memory. Her mind is 
filled with the fairy lore of poetry; and lately she 
has been reading the Bible which, she says, is grand 
and solemn, like the music of the sea. Beyond 
teaching her to read and write, I have never taxed 
her with lessons. Arithmetic and spelling are her 
bugbears. Like Dickenses Little Dora, her ^sums 
won^t add’ ; and she thinks that spelling words, 
letter by letter, is silly, like tearing a flower apart.” 

They continued to talk in low tones, their words 
drifting lazily on the dreamy stillness of the woods, 
like the fugitive leaves that floated on the pool. 

Harry was the first of the wanderers to return. 
Then came the twins, clamoring for supper. When 
the meal was ready they had to search for Joan, 
who was so deeply absorbed in Gertrude Ather- 



268 TJie Good-for~Nothing Graysons 


ton^s The Conqueror ” that she was deaf to their 
calls. 

The late afternoon sun filled the air with a hazy 
light, like a sprinkling of golden powder, which 
slowly softened into a blur of amethyst and rose. 

There will be a gorgeous sunset,^’ said Dick. 
“ Those clouds in the west are setting the stage for 
a pageant of color.” 

We must stay and watch the show! ” cried 
Joan. It will be better than the circus. There^s 
one gray cloud ^ that^s almost in shape of a camel,^ 
and another that’s Wery like a whale’; and that 
dark one streaked with gold is a ^ tiger, tiger, burn¬ 
ing bright.’ Oh! I’m so happy and contented that 
I wish I were a cat so that I could stretch out my 
paws and purr! ” 

A cool breeze swept among the pines, rising from 
a rustling murmur to a shrill tone which suddenly 
sank into silence like the abrupt ending of a skirl 
played on the bagpipes. A crow passed overhead 
with loud raucous caws, and dropped a feather 
which fell, like a blot of ink, on ISTancy’s lap. 

“ Ugh! ” she grimaced, and a little shiver of 
dread passed through her, as she flicked the glossy 
feather from her skirt. I’m afraid of crows. 
They seem so—so malignant. I feel as though that 
feather were an evil omen; that something dreadful 
is going to happen.” 



" Baldur the Beautiful 


269 


The words had scarcely left her lips when they 
were all startled to their feet by the sound of some¬ 
thing crashing through the woods above, as though 
one of the great boulders at the top of the hill were 
descending upon them. Then came a weird, in¬ 
human bellowing, as of some crazed creature, 
mingled shouts of men, and the roar of an in¬ 
furiated animal. 

Suddenly Jerry appeared, waving his arms and 
clamoring as he ploughed his way through bushes 
and saplings that sank under his tread and then 
sprang back, heaving like the waves of a leafy sea. 
His smock was torn, his arms and face were 
scratched and bleeding, his hair was tangled with 
leaves and brambles, and his eyes, wide and star¬ 
ing, were filled with madness and terror. 

They stood petrified and helpless with fear. The 
twins began to scream. Dick seized Monica and 
placed her as high as he could reach, on the forked 
branch of a tree. 

^^For God’s sake, Nancy, climb a tree! The 
poor fellow has gone mad! ” he cried; and, with 
Harry’s help, he lifted the twins to safety beside 
Monica. 

The shouts of the men drew nearer. Jerry began 
to whimper and kept waving his arms. Nancy was 
too weak and powerless to move. She and Grannie 
clung together. A shrill scream escaped their lips 



270 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


as another form came hurtling after Jerry,—a 
huge, tawny lion. Dick encircled them with his 
arms and pushed them behind a large boulder. 
Joan threw herself on the ground, face downward, 
and Harry,, seizing her feet, began to drag her to 
Nancy and Grannie. 

For a moment the animal stood on an overhang¬ 
ing rock, heaving with panting breaths, its eyes 
blazing with rage. Then, with a bellowing roar of 
fury it leaped down, bringing a shower of leaves 
and pebbles. 

Jerry gave a wild yell and sprang at the creature. 
The two rolled together on the ground, scattering 
dust and pine-needles like battle-smoke. The hid¬ 
eous scene blurred before Dick’s eyes as he picked 
up the fainting Joan. 

Half a dozen men, wearing vivid blue and yellow 
circus uniforms, had scrambled down the slope. 
The foremost took a careful, deliberate aim at the 
lion’s head and fired two shots. With a frenzied 
roar the animal leaped into the air and fell, a shud¬ 
dering, gasping mass, near Jerry, who lay still with 
blood spurting from a ghastly wound on his bared 
shoulder. 

That’s the second man that damned beast has 
killed to-day,” said one of the men, as Dick came 
over to Jerry. ^^He’s been actin’ queer for over a 
week, an’ this afternoon the crowds an’ the noise 



Baldur the Beautiful 


271 


seemed to madden him. He growled an^ roared all 
through the show. When it was over, his trainer 
went into the cage; an’ in less’n a minute poor Joe 
was dead on the floor, an’ the damned beast was 
loose an’ outa the tent. By good luck it came this 
way, ’stead of rushin’ through the streets that were 
filled with crowds goin’ home. Crikey! we came 
after him as fast as we could, hut we lost track of 
him for a while until we heard that poor cuss 
yell.” He brushed the perspiration from his fore¬ 
head with the back of his hand. 

Dick knelt beside Jerry. Nancy came forward 
timidly. 

Is—is Jerry dead? ” she whispered. 

I don’t know. Keep away, Nancy! ” he begged. 

I’m not afraid.” She knelt on the other side of 
Jerry and gently wiped away the blood that oozed 
from his lips. Poor Jerry! He came to warn us 
of our danger, and we thought he had gone mad. 
And now, he has given his life to save us! ” 

J erry opened his eyes and smiled feebly. With a 
deep, indrawn sigh he strove to raise himself, and 
then sank back with a shuddering groan. 

Dick lifted him carefully and supported his back 
with his knee. The men, removing their gold- 
braided caps, stood near in silence. 

Sunset burnished the sky with crimson and gold, 
that touched the varied greens of the trees with 



272 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


bronze and copper tints and gave a divine radiance 
to Jerry’s face and hair. The clonds in the west 
were a shifting mass of splendor, changing, glow¬ 
ing, and melting into a mystic haze that veiled the 
sinking sun. 

The dying man’s breaths came in feeble gasps 
from his smiling lips, and his eyes were filled with 
a rapt and consecrated vision, so that ‘^his face 
did shine as the sun,” as he reached out with trem¬ 
bling hands. Suddenly a strange, wonderful light 
shone through a rift in the clouds, flooding the 
world with purest gold,—a baptism of glory. 

As though the healing hand of Christ were laid 
upon him, the miracle of speech came to Jerry 
and he uttered, in a cry of rapture, the first word 
he had ever been able to articulate. 

^^God!” 

A slight tremor passed through his great form 
and he sank back lifeless in Dick’s arms. 

Harry had lifted Monica down from the tree, and 
the child now came quickly forward. Her face 
glowed with awe and ecstasy as she laid one little 
hand on Jerry’s head and raised the other, point¬ 
ing at the heavenly city pictured in the sky. Very 
slowly she spoke. 

“ ‘ And lo, the heavens were opened unto him. 
And lo, a voice from heaven saying. This is my 
beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.’ ” 



CHAPTER XXIV 


OPAL MIST 

The day of J erry^s funeral was warm and moist, 

veiled with mist that caught a translucent shimmer 

from the hidden sun and mingled sky and sea in 

continuous transitions of soft luminous colors: sil- 
* 

ver, mauve, and pearl, through which came fleet¬ 
ing gleams of the sun’s golden glow, like the flame 
that dreams in the heart of an opal. 

The churchyard was thronged with people. All 
the villagers were there, laden with dewy trophies 
from their gardens. The children had been out 
since early morning, scouring the woods and mead¬ 
ows for the wildflowers their playmate had loved 
and made his own,—Jerry’s flowers,” as they 
called them. 

A grim, dusty tramp shambled in, and drifted like 
a bit of human wreckage through the crowd to 
peer down into the open grave. It was old Nero, 
the tinker and knife-grinder. His shaggy, bearded 
face and bent, twisted body had made him an abid¬ 
ing terror to children whose threatening mothers 
used his name as a prophecy of inevitable punish¬ 
ment. Tears stole down his grimy face and disap¬ 
peared in the thicket of his beard. 

273 


274 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


Jerry wuz a good frien^ to me, he wuz. An^ his 
eyes, they wuz full o^ the kind words his lips 
couldn^t speak. He stayed in my hut for three 
weeks, he did, an’ tended me through the roomatics, 
an’ saved me from dyin’ alone. He wuz a good 
frien’.” 

Nero left the churchyard and plodded his way 
along the dusty road where he would never again 
meet the simple, kindly dumb man who had always 
smiled upon him,—the man who was his only 
friend. 

The murmuring sound of the sea filled the air 
with a sighing undertone, as Mr. Alden read the 
burial service. Then the children, who had been 
allowed to decide what they should sing at the 
grave of their comrade, sang their favorite hymn. 
Their treble voices rose sweet and clear, as the shy 
ones gained confidence and joined in with the others 
who bravely began the first lines. The hymn of 
heavenly promise, which they loved and knew so 
well, was more in keeping with their memory of 
Jerry than any included in those for the burial of 
the dead. It pictured to them the land of pure 
delight where Jerry had gone; the land where 

“ There’s a friend for little children 
Above the bright blue sky.” 

Somehow, I can’t see our Jerry playin’ a harp 



Opal Mist 


275 


in the Bible heaven of starry thrones an^ golden 
streets/’ remarked Jim Deane to a group of men 
who lingered before his shop after leaving the 
churchyard. It seems to me like Jerry’s heaven’ll 
be a meadow where he c’n romp with the children 
jes’ like he did down here. I guess he’d rather tell 
them stories, for he’ll be able to speak up there, 
than sing with the angels; an’ he’d rather wear a 
wreath o’ flowers made by the kids than a starry 
crown.” 

By noon the migts had rolled away and the sun 
was diffusing its full glory of light and heat over 
the village, filling it with the dry, dusty glow of 
August. 

Housewives busied themselves with the tasks 
they had left undone in the morning, finding relief 
for their depressed spirits in a noisy clattering of 
dishes, splashing of mops in soapy water, and un¬ 
necessary polishing of stoves. 

Men resumed their interrupted work in the fields 
where the air seemed alive with grasshoppers, as the 
clicking machines cut and tied the golden wheat 
in sheaves, or raked the loose, tawny hay into piles 
that formed an archipelago in acres of stubble sea. 

Children hung about the doorsteps of their homes 
in listless boredom. The day with its holiday free¬ 
dom seemed endless to them; there was “ nothing to 
do,” and it was too hot to play.” 



276 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 

Bees hummed and whirled over the flowers that 
were heaped on Jerry’s grave, the rapid beating of 
their wings forming a blue haze, like their song 
made visible. The incoming tide crept in slowly, 
foaming and murmuring over the hard, wet sand 
which had been etched with scalloped outlines by 
the ebbing waves, and the song of the sea saddened 
the summer air, like the voice that 

For ever cried 
‘ Baldur the Beautiful 
Is dead, is dead! ’ ” 



CHAPTER XXy 


MILLIONS OF MISCHIEFS” 

The sun-grilled weather continued, dragging 
through a week of blistering days. The air was 
filmy with a quivering heat haze which blurred the 
landscape, like a picture done in pastels and rubbed 
into a smudge of colors by a careless hand. The 
sea was burnished by the sun with a shimmering, 
oily iridescence .which made it seem as though its 
waves might suddenly burst into flames. 

Pumps groaned as they poured forth their feeble 
streams, and buckets came up only half-fllled with 
warm, brackish water from deplenished wells. The 
brook shrank into a thread of water, trickling be¬ 
tween stones that were encrusted with dry clay. 
Gardens languished, flowers withered in the bud, 
and the leafy world was songless, as though all the 
nest-dwellers had joined a silent brotherhood. 

Seems like the world is givin’ a purty good 
imitation o^ hell,” Jim Deane said to Louella Greer 
one morning when he delivered the mail-bag. 
^^WhaPs the latest news o^ the Day o^ Judgment, 
Louella? It can’t be far off, I reckon. Hev you 
received any word from headquarters ’bout when 
the affair’s to take place? ” 

She regarded him with a disdainful smile. As 

277 


278 "" The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


the Holy Writ says, Jim Deane, your tongue is as 
a reed shaken by the wind o’ folly, an’ your mind 
is a rollin’ stone that gathers no moss o’ wisdom, 
I say. When the Day o’ Judgment does come, 
you’ll find that the idle folly o’ your much speakin’ 
’ll be laid up against you, that’s what! ” 

A day came when the unnatural spell of drought 
and heat was broken. Dawn blushed rosily in the 
east, but, before the sky was fretted with golden 
fire ” by the sun, a cloud-laden land breeze cooled 
and stirred the air with a promise of rain. 

The crisp, thirsty leaves on the trees fluttered 
and showed their under sides, the flowers nodded 
languidly, and the birds flung a few trilling notes 
into the air, like loose, raveled threads of fairy 
music. 

Then came the rain, falling throughout the day 
with a gentle monotony; reviving the trees and 
flowers, and filling the air with a glorious thrill of 
renewed life and hope. 

It’s the divil’s own weather we’ve been havin’,” 
Oonah observed to the family, as she brought a 
plateful of hot muffins to the breakfast table. A 
taste av hell, it was, an’ that’s the truth. An’ it’s 
God’s mercy, it is, that the rain has come at last 
to save Cassburn from blazin’ up an’ dishappearin’ 
in a puff av smoke. Shure the blissed rain is failin’ 
down from the sky loike howly wather, it is that! ” 



Millions of Mischiefs'' 


279 


In the afternoon Miss Louella was sitting alone 
in her bay-window. The rainy weather had kept 
her gossiping companions at home. In her bony, 
red-knuckled hands she held a newspaper which 
was soiled, frayed, and beginning to yellow with 
age. From time to time she glanced and gloated 
over an item that was distinguished by a crude 
circle drawn around it with a blunt blue pencil. 

I wonder who could’ve sent me this! ” she said 
in puzzled tones, and she picked up a torn envelope 
from the table. 

It was addressed to her, and the writing had 
evidently been done by the same pencil that was 
used in marking the newspaper. 

It looks mighty like Sid Hale’s writin’, an’ it 
come from New York where he’s livin’ now. 
Wouldn’t wonder if he did send it. Well, it’ll make 
the village sit up and take notice, I say! As the 
Holy Writ says, tell it not in Gath; publish it not 
in the streets o’ Askelon, but Cassburn ain’t men¬ 
tioned: so I guess I’ll use my tongue, an’ Dick 
Thorold an’ Nancy Grayson’ll be a proverb an’ a 
byword among all people, I say! ” 

The paper was a humorous sheet, written in a 
breezy, slangy style, and interspersed with items 
that a conservative editor would have rejected as 
unfit for publication; but it was a cheerful rag,” 
the sort of thing that war-weary men might read 



280 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


with pleasure and profit to their jaded spirits. It 
had a kick ” like the hind-leg of a mule; and, in 
many of its paragraphs, there was the spirit of 
optimistic courage that had enabled many a man 
to carry on ” and do his bit during the War. 

^^It’s a soldiers’ newspaper,” soliloquized Miss 
Louella, ^^made over in France, but it’s done in 
English printin’. I guess some returned soldier 
must’ve brought it back an’ give it to Sid Hale. I 
wonder why he thought o’ sendin’ it to me! My! 
I wish the rain’d let up, so some one’d drop in. 
There’s only been three people in fer their mail to¬ 
day, an’ they come before I’d opened this. Sakes 
alive! I wonder why Sid Hale sent it to me, ’stead 
o’ his own folks! ” 

She turned to the paragraph and read it over, 
slowly nodding with an exultant smile. At the 
sound of some one entering the post-ofQ.ce, she 
started and looked up. 

Why, Aggie Vance! ” her voice was shrill with 
excitement, I was jes’ wishin’ that some one’d 
come in. I’ve somethin’ here that’ll make the 
mornin’ stars sing together, that’s what! Jes’ look 
here,—read this! ” 

She spread the newspaper on the table and in¬ 
dicated the marked paragraph with a pointing 
finger. Mrs. Vance, in slow, stumbling tones, read 
aloud. 



Millions of Mischiefs 


281 


“ After a terrific bombardment of three days, the 
enemy put Busy Bertha and Coughing Clara to 
sleep and withdrew from action. The lull was like 
a dose of soothing syrup to our frazzled nerves. 
Meanwhile, in this little town, Somewhere in 
France, Cupid gave the merry ha-ha to the guns of 
Mars and got busy with his bow and arrow. Greta 
Henshaw is a cute little trick, we’ll tell the cock¬ 
eyed world; and when she hands round her smiles 
every feller in sight is a fall guy and falls hard for 
Greta. She’s the prettiest skirt in the Bed Cross 
outfit quartered in this section, and on Wednes¬ 
day night last she was wedlocked to Kichard 
Thorold, the shrinking violet of Ward No. 4,—lucky 
dog! 

When Eichard recovers from shell shock and his 
lamps are illuminating his head-piece again, he’ll 
find that he’s won a prize; though when the lovely 
Greta led him to the matrimonial halter, he visibly 
reluctated. But the band played ^ Hearts and 
Flowers,^ and the Kev. Sandy Macpherson, our 
benign and beloved Padre, Harrylauderized the 
solemn rites with the famous sob in his voice that 
is said to turn dust into dew. The Groom’s seal 
ring was torn from his resisting hand and placed 
on the left hook of the blushing Bride; and the 
Kev. Sandy intoned the closing lines of the cere¬ 
mony with a fervor that brought a tear to every 
manly eye. 

The evening finished with gin and jazz, and a 
good time was had by all.” 


Well, whatta y’ know ’bout that! ” exclaimed 
Mrs. Vance. Dick Thorold married already, an’ 



282 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


‘ Iiini gettin^ engaged to !Nancy Grayson! Jes’ wait 
till I tell Mis^ Wiggins an’ Mis’ Hertz! ” 

I always knew that Dick Thorold’d shame this 
village, which the Lord hath blessed as a habita¬ 
tion o’ the just! ” Miss Louella’s bugle eyeballs 
flashed, ^^but I never thought he’d try to start a 
harem in our midst an’ make the state o’ holy 
matrimony a joke on the Lord, Who never intended 
marriage to be the more the merrier. When the 
Day o’ Judgment comes, he’ll hev to go through the 
eye of a needle on a camel’s back before he’ll get 
so much as a look-in at heaven, I say! I’d jes’ like 
to give him this newspaper an’ watch him read it! 
It’d make me feel like Delilah cuttin’ off Samson’s 
hair! ” 

Why don’t you take it over now? ” suggested 
Mrs. Vance. “ I’ll mind the ofdce while you’re 
gone.” 

^^I don’t know as I ought to do that,” Miss 
Louella hesitated. As the Holy Writ says, man 
goeth forth unto his work an’ to his labor until 
evenin’, which might be said o’ the way I run this 
post-office; an’ if the Government found out that I 
went off duty ahead o’ time, there’d be trouble in 
Washin’ton, an’-” 

Well, President Wilson quit his job an’ went to 
Europe, didn’t he? ” 

That’s right, he did! An’ if he c’n play hookey, 




Millions of Mischiefs '' 


283 


I guess I can. I’ll show you how to open the stamp- 
drawer ; an’ if any one asks fer me, you c’n let on 
that I’m sick or somethin’.” 

After the midday dinner the Graysons had gath¬ 
ered in the living-room, to spend the afternoon in 
a lazy, rainy-day fashion. Grannie was reading 
aloud to Monica, Harry was drawing, Joan was 
grubbing among the old magazines, and Flip and 
Flop were building pagodas and towers on the large 
table with a pack of cards. 

The drip, drip, drip of the rain outside, the low, 
even tones of Grannie’s voice, the rustling of Joan’s 
magazines, and an occasional outcry from the twins 
when a wobbly tower collapsed, all seemed a part 
of the monotony of the long, gray day that irked 
Nancy into a fit of restlessness. She stole from the 
room, donned her raincoat, rubbers, and slouch hat, 
and left the house. 

After pacing the shore aimlessly, she turned on 
her homeward way through the Cedarwold gardens, 
where the trees were musical with pattering rain¬ 
drops and twittering bird songs. Through the open 
windows of the library came the lilting strains of 
Mendelssohn’s Spring Song.” Dick was playing. 
The joyous melody, with its swaying rhythm and 
liquid, rippling tones, seemed like a plagiarism of 
the bird-and-raindrop music in the trees. 

She mounted the verandah, tossed her hat and 



284 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


coat on a seat, kicked off ker rubbers, and stood 
in the open French window. A moment later the 
Spring Song ended abruptly, when Dick caught 
sight of her. He laid his violin and bow on a table 
and strode forward. 

iN'ancy! you ‘ phantom of delight M he took 
her in his arms and drew her into the room. 

Oh, Dick! ” she nestled against his heart, and 
her lips puckered into an adorable pout which he 
accepted as a challenge for a kiss, “ Ibn cross and 
restless. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. 
My nerves are jumpy. All the heat of the past 
week seems to have entered my system, and this 
placid, monotonous rain makes me sizzle with bad 
temper. A wild thunderstorm would be more in 
keeping with my mood. I am possessed of devils 
to-day. Play to me and drive them away! ” 

She curled herself in a deep, springy armchair 
with her feet tucked under her, and met the ques¬ 
tioning scrutiny of his eyes with a wistful smile. 

Dick cuddled the violin under his chin. What 
shall I play? ” he asked, his bow poised in his up¬ 
lifted hand. 

Oh! anything.” Nancy closed her eyes with a 
sigh of content. 

Dick began Kreisler’s arrangement of Dvorak’s 
Indian Lament.” The beautiful melody breathed 
its rich harmonies upon the room like the fragrance 



Millions of Mischiefs 


285 


of flowers, a benediction of peace and ineffable 
sweetness. He gazed at ber with a tender, amused 
smile as the little troubled frown which creased her 
brow was gradually smoothed away. 

Miss Louella appeared in the open doorway. 
She was ushered in by Noki, who closed the door 
as he withdrew. Dick stepped forward. 

“ This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Louella,” 
he pronounced the lie with a welcoming smile. 

Won’t you sit down? ” 

Miss Louella was visibly nervous. As she said to 
Mrs. Vance when she returned to the post-office,— 

I walked up to the cannon’s mouth, but I hadn’t 
the nerve to screw my courage to the shooting 
place.” 

guess not,” she shook her head as Dick in¬ 
dicated a chair. I can’t stay more’n a minute. I 
thought I’d bring this over to you, and, as Haney’s 
here, she might’s well see it, too. As the Holy Writ 
says, he that hath knowledge spareth his words, 
an’ a still tongue makes a wise head. So I ain’t 
sayin’ nothin’; but when you read this you c’n guess 
what’s in my mind, that’s what. It come to me in 
the mail to-day, an’ I guess Sid Hale sent it.” 

She gave him the folded newspaper, but her in¬ 
tention to remain and watch him read it was over¬ 
come by an attack of cowardice, and she hurried 
from the room. 



286 " The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


Dick seated himself in the armchair Nancy had 
vacated on Miss Louella^s entrance and unfolded 
the newspaper, glancing up at Nancy with puzzled 
amusement as she perched on the arm of the chair 
and leaned over his shoulder. For a few minutes 
they read in silence. 

Isn’t it funny? ” chuckled Nancy. 

He turned to the inner page. Why the dickens 
did Miss Louella bring this trashy sheet to me? 
And why did young Hale send it to her? ” 

Oh! there’s a marked column! ” exclaimed 
Nancy. Let’s read that.” She touched the blue 
circle with the tip of a forefinger. 

Dick’s jaw dropped in amazement as he read, 
and the circle seemed to spin round with his tumul¬ 
tuous thoughts. Nancy rose slowly and clung to 
the back of the chair in limp dismay. Her face had 
a deathlike pallor, and its delicate, flowerlike 
beauty was Jiardened into a blank, frozen mask. 

The paper dropped to the floor from Dick’s 
hands. His mind was a seething chaos of baffled 
bewilderment in which lurked a suspicion, amount¬ 
ing to dread, that this nonsensical description of 
the war wedding was a plausible, and perhaps 
truthful explanation of the haunting ghost voice ” 
that had so often intruded upon his thoughts, to 
tantalize him with its mysterious recurrence and 
the futility of his efforts to identify its ownership. 



^'Millions of Mischiefs'' 


287 


It also accounted for the loss of Ms seal ring, and 
the peculiar physical sensation he had frequently 
experienced, the sensation of a hand pressing on 
his left arm. Black doubt battered his reason into 
a state of numbness. 

The smell of moist earth and the fragrance of 
rain-washed flowers which came through the open 
windows seemed to be subtly blended with the 
portentous silence of the room. Suddenly a string 
of the violin, left exposed to the damp air, snapped 
with the sound of a pistol-shot. The startling re¬ 
port roused Dick. He stood up and faced Nancy, 
and the tragedy in his face made her shiver with 
dread. 

Dick, it^—isMt true,—is it? 

Nancy, I —donH know/’ he replied with a hope¬ 
less gesture. I have no recollection of marrying 
any one; but for months I have been tormented by 
the sound of a woman^s voice; no actual words that 
would give me any clue to her identity,—^just 
smooth, drawling tones. 

On looking back, I can recall the mad excite¬ 
ment of leading my men into action the last time 
I went over the top. After that my mind is blank, 
except for periods of awful suffering, the conscious 
intervals in a hospital when I seemed to be dragging 
my pain-racked body through a hell of torture. 
When I returned to the actual world I learned that 



288 "" The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


tlie War was over, and it was tlien tliat I missed 
my ring. Througliout the War it had never left 
my hand. I don’t know what to believe! ” 

Then it must be true,” she shook her head de¬ 
spairingly, and the pain in her eyes, the pitiful 
quivering of her lips smote him with remorse. 
“ We can’t be married, you belong to some one else. 
We haven’t even the right to love each other, now.” 

“ No! ” he protested vehemently, seizing her 
hands. I belong to you. That marriage, if it did 
take place, can ,—will be annulled. I’ll go to New 
York to-night and see my lawyers. They will start 
inquiries at once, and find the Red Cross nurse. 
Nancy dear, don’t let this destroy your faith in me 
and rob me of your love,—of you! ” 

The despair in his voice, the helpless dejection 
of his attitude, stirred her heart with a shuddering 
pain, and a warm rush of pity surged through her 
being. She felt a strange sensation within her, as 
though her heart were breaking through a chrysalis, 
emerging with the untried wings of womanhood 
and leaving her girlhood behind, an empty, dis¬ 
carded shell. 

I’m going to hope, Dick, and so must you. If 
the marriage did take place, you were not in a con¬ 
dition to realize what was happening or to remem¬ 
ber it afterwards. So, don’t look so sad, so 
ashamed, as though you had done something wrong; 



Millions of Mischiefs 


289 


as tliougli you had cheated and wronged me! You 
haven’t! You are still my dear old Dick,—^the man 
I love! ” 

When she released herself from his embrace, she 
smiled bravely and spoke in cheery, matter-of-fact 
tones. 

“ Dick, if you really married that Ked Cross 
nurse, why hasn’t she turned up to claim her posi¬ 
tion as your wife? There’s hope for us there! If 
all the silly newspapers in the world said that you 
were Solomon with his hundreds of wives, I’d still 
love you and believe in you I ” 

Nancy, you’re a—^you’re a brick! ” 

Now, I must go home.” She shivered slightly. 

I shall have to tell the family. How I dread it I 
But Miss Louella will be in her glory over this, 
pouring it into the ears of every one. Oh, Dick! 
come back from New York as soon as you can! 
Without you, I shall be an awful coward about fac¬ 
ing the village. How their tongues will wag about 
^ the good-for-nothing Graysons ’ now! ” 



CHAPTER XXVI 


VOX-POPPING 

Xancy’s courage deserted lier when she left Dick 
and hurried home through the garden. On enter¬ 
ing the house, she sought Grannie and found her 
alone in the living-room. 

The little woman was smiling over the lace she 
was making for Xancy^s trousseau, weaving her 
dreams and prayers into the dainty rosebuds she 
crocheted. At the sound of the closing door she 
looked up, and saw a strange, new Xancy standing 
before her. The girl was like a wraith. Her face 
was drained of color, her eyes wide with a fright¬ 
ened, unseeing stare. With trembling hands out¬ 
stretched, she seemed to be groping her way from 
the door. 

Xancy dear, what is it? What has happened? ” 

Oh, Grannie, Grannie! ” Xancy knelt beside 
the chair, and Grannie^s arms enfolded her in a lov¬ 
ing embrace. 

It is incredible! ’’ she exclaimed when Xancy 
had told her story, and she vainly sought for words 
to comfort the weeping girl. 

“ Pm ashamed of myself! I mustn^t give way 
like this,’’ Xancy gulped down a strangling sob, 

but I’m such a coward! ” 

290 


Vox-Popping 


291 


^‘You’re a dear, brave girl!” contradicted 
Grannie. This crying is wbat you needed. There 
is no reason to be ashamed of it.” 

A faint smile glimmered through IS'ancy’s tears. 

Harry would call it a wash-out, and it has done 
me good. I feel better already. Oh, Grannie! how 
good it was to come to your arms and pour my 
sorrow into your heart! ” 

Grannie’s eyes gleamed with tender happiness. 

Nancy dear, this is a wonderful chance for you 
and Dick to learn what love is, and that it is worth 
fighting for. Hold on to your love with both your 
hearts, face the ordeal with faith, and your courage 
will mount with the occasion.” 

With a pitiful attempt at bravado, Nancy en¬ 
lightened her family at the supper-table, and she 
chose a moment when Oonah came in with a pitcher 
of milk for the children. 

I thought it better to tell you myself,” she fin¬ 
ished. 

Joan giggled nervously, and her fork fell with a 
clatter to the fioor. She leaned over to pick it up, 
almost lost her balance, and then bumped her head 
against the edge of the table. She was a picture of 
comic bewilderment, as she rubbed the stars out of 
.her eyes and gazed ruefully at the others. 

Save us an’ bliss us! ” exclaimed Oonah, and 
she immediately took her stand beside Nancy’s 



292 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


chair, laying her hand on the girPs shoulder. 

Nancy, me darlint, don’t you be afther belavin’ 
the newspapers! Shure, they’re jes’ rags the divil 
uses to wipe his hands on, an’ the lies they print 
are the dirt that comes off av his fingers; an’ thin 
he uses thim fer kapin’ his big bonfire burnin’. 
Shure, iv there was no newspapers in the worruld, 
there’d be no fires in hell! ” 

There was a general laugh at Oonah’s vehemence. 

It’s wishin’ I am that I could git the divil by 
the scruff av his neck an’ make him ate the news¬ 
papers. It’d give him a stomachache that no medi¬ 
cine could cure; an’ he’d howl wid cramps fer miny 
a long day, he would that! Whin I die, I hope to 
go to hivin so’s I c’n be wid the wee Monica,—the 
saints fergive me fer spillin’ me wild talk in her 
swate ears now! But I’d loike to pay a short visit 
to the other place an’ hev the chanct to tell the 
divil what I think av him.” 

Oonah dear! ” remonstrated Nancy feebly. 
^‘Let me spake, Nancy! An’ Monica, put yer 
fingers in yer blissed ears. It’s spake I must, fer 
I’m desprit. Me mind is such a flood av worruds 
that, iv I stood nixt to the Niagara Falls an’ spilled 
me worruds, the Falls’d look loike a drippin’ fasset 
in the kitchen sink.” 

I don’t mind your funny talk, Oonah,” began 
Monica with her sweet, placid smile, but I do feel 



Vox-Popping 


293 


sorry for the poor devil! He is always blamed 
when things go wrong in the world. Perhaps he 
is sorry he is the devil, and wants to be good in¬ 
stead.” 

‘‘ Bliss the child! Sorry fer the divil, is it 
y^are?” Oonah^s voice was gentle. 

Monica nodded. I’m sure no one wants to be 
as bad as people say he is. Sometimes I think of 
him sitting by himself, very lonely and sad because 
every one is against him.” 

I’m going to pray for the poor devil,” an¬ 
nounced Flop. 

So’m I,” added Flip. Every night I’ll say, 
^ God bless me an’ the devil an’ make us good boys. 
Amen.’ ” 

“ It’ll be a long toime that yet,” said Oonah. 

But it’s a frindly thing to do, an’ the divil’ll take 
‘it kindly, I’m shure av that. Nancy darlint, don’t 
be down-hearted! Things hev to go wrong wance in 
a while, loike this trouble fer you an’ Dick, or the 
worruld’d grow top-heavy wid joy an’ fall over into 
nowheres. Ivery rose has its thorn, an’ ivery bush 
has its bug. Don’t fret an’ lose yer appetite. Face 
the worruld wid a glad heart an’ a full stomach, an’ 
you’ll win through anythin’. 

“ Shure, I’m fergittin’ the batch o’ bread I left 
in the oven, ivery loaf smellin’ wid a swate, crusty 
smell, loike incinse ticklin’ the nose av a saint! 



294 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


Bad cess to me mimory! Theydl be burned to cin¬ 
ders, they will, an^ therell be nothin’ to ate in the 
house but a tin box av thim educated crackers 
that’s only fit fer the divil to crack his teeth on.’’ 
She hurried from the room. 

Isn’t Oonah priceless?” chuckled Joan. 

Harry grinned. She’s our wild Irish rose, I’ll 
say.” 

Hear, faithful old soul! ” said Grannie fer¬ 
vently. How loyal and devoted she is! Her out¬ 
burst was a good tonic for you, Nancy.” 

It was, and I wish Dick had been here to listen 
to it. Oonah has given me a glad heart! I will 
now proceed to acquire a full stomach, as she ad¬ 
vised.” Nancy helped herself to cold chicken. 

I bet there’ll be some lively ^ vox-popping ’ in 
Watch-and-Pry Corner,” remarked Harry. When 
Miss Louella and her cohorts get their teeth into 
this story, the whole village will ring with their 
chin music. Oh, Day of Judgment! this will be 
pie for Miss Louella! ” 

Huhuh! ” assented Joan. She’ll talk until 
the cows come home. I shouldn’t wonder if she 
jaws about it in her sleep, and I wish it would give 
her lockjaw.” 

Harry turned to Nancy. ^‘What are you going 
to do about it, Nance? Face the music, or go into 
retreat until the storm blows over? ” 



" Vocc-Popping 


295 


Tm going to face tlie music,—^to brazen it out,’’ 
she answered. ‘^Dick will hurry back from !New 
York, and the village can ^ vox-pop ’ all it wants to 
when they see us together.” 

Good for you, old girl! ” he gave her an admir¬ 
ing look. 

The village was in a whirl of excitement over the 
newspaper story of which Miss Louella made 
bundles of gossip, tied with strings of Holy Writ, 
and handed out with the mail to all who entered 
the post-office; like prize packages given to cus¬ 
tomers with their purchases. 

One day, when buying a bag of tobacco in 
Brackett’s store, Jim Deane gave utterance to his 
views in soft, drawling tones that tinged his voice 
with sadness, although furtive twinkles lurked in 
his eyes. 

Well, I guess it was ’bout time somethin’ hap¬ 
pened to save this village from dry-rot; an’ I intend 
to use all my influence, such as it is, with the 
authorities in Washington, so’s Dick Thorold’ll be 
awarded a Congressional Medal. He sure deserves 
it.” 

Jim loosened the drawing-string in the tobacco 
bag and then proceeded to fill his well-seasoned 
pipe, slowly and carefully. 

“ There hasn’t been anythin’ fer Louella to gab 
’bout fer weeks past,” he continued, ^^an’ I was 



296 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


beginning to feel that I owed it to tbe community 
to stir things up an’ do somethin’ rash an’ reckless, 
like committin’ suicide or,—^proposin’ to Louella, 
maybe. But now, the village is like a pot o’ 
scandal-stew boilin’ over, an’ Louella’s givin’ it a 
lively stirabout with her tongue. I wish I could 
quote Louella’s Holy Writ to pass my opinion on 
her; but that ain’t my line, so I’ll jes’ say that 
she’s enough to make a cat laugh. 

^^Dick ain’t a fool or a criminal, an’ if he did 
marry that Bed Cross dame, like the newspaper 
said, he c’n give the village a taste o’ high society 
life by gettin’ a divorce. When he does that this 
place’ll be listed in the Snmrt 

The customers who had lingered in the store to 
hear Jim’s discourse laughed their agreement. 

‘^Divorces is gettin’ to be real common,” ob¬ 
served Mrs. Talbot. 

Sam Brackett paused in slicing bacon. My wife 
passed the same remark yesterday. The papers is 
full o’ divorces.” 

‘‘You’ve said a mouthful, Sam,” drawled Jim. 
“Why, I hear that, in New York, divorces are so 
fashionable now that all the marriage certif’cates 
hev divorce coupons attached; an’ when married 
folks get tired o’ bein’ together, all they hev to do 
to get free, is to clip a coupon off. An’ they hev 
to publish a society book there called ‘ Who’s Who,’ 



Vooo-Popping 


297 


go’s folks c^n keep wise to the rise an’ fall o’ stocks 
in the marriage exchange.” He drew on his pipe 
with evident enjoyment of its tobacco and the in¬ 
terest of his auditors. 

Durin’ the War queer things happened ^ over 
there ’ ; an’, as they sing in the revival tent meetin’s 
over to Bradbury,—^not half has ever been told.’ 
But this weddin’ o’ Dick’s, that Louella’s tootin’ 
the trombone ’bout, sounds sorta fishy to me. It 
wouldn’t jolt my mind to hear that it was jest a 
fairy tale, maybe.” 

He paused at the door, before making his exit. 

I’m real glad to see that little Nancy Grayson 
has spunk enough to get round the same’s usual, 
an’ that she an’ Dick ain’t slow ’bout bein’ seen 
together, now that he’s come back from New York. 
They’re a fine young pair, an’ no one’ll be gladder’n 
me when this mess is straightened out an’ Louella’s 
tongue has to take a rest-cure. She may be a 
worthy woman in the sight o’ the Lord; but there’s 
times, an’ this is one, when Louella gives me a tig, 
fat pain!’’ 

Jim uttered the last words with a display of 
feeling that startled his audience. 

I never heard Jim speak so warm! ” exclaimed 
Mrs. Talbot, as the blacksmith departed. 

Watch-and-Pry Corner was rife with surmises 
and comments. 



298 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons'' 


One’d tMnk that Nancy^d bow her head in 
shame, an^ not be seen out o’ the house these days,” 
said Mrs. Wiggins. 

Just so,” snufded Mrs. Hertz. But the Gray¬ 
sons is a brassy lot an’ know no shame.” 

Brassy is jes’ the word that’s in my mind when 
I think o’ Nancy,” declared Mrs. Vance, an’ I’ll 
say that her brass ain’t all in her hair.” 

“ You’re right there, Polly Vance! ” Miss Louella 
nodded with approval. Out o’ your mouth cometh 
wisdom. Every day I see Nancy ridin’ with Dick 
in his car, as bold as you please. She sits there 
beside him, holdin’ her head with pride an’ a 
haughty spirit, like as if she was a picture o’ that 
French queen in Solomon Simpson’s hist’ry book, 
ridin’ in a tumble-cart to the gelatine. On the Day 
o’ Judgment the Lord’ll see that Nancy stubs her 
toe at the pearly gates, an’ great’ll be the fall 
thereof, I say! ” 

Louella, you give me a big, fat pain! ” Mrs. Tal¬ 
bot had picked up pearls of speech from Jim 
Deane’s harangue. You’re enough to make a cat 
laugh when you talk o’ the Day o’ Judgment, as 
if the Lord needed your help in runnin’ it. I jes’ 
wish you had the habit o’ takin’ out your tongue 
at nights along with your false teeth; then, maybe, 
it’d shrink so’s it wouldn’t fit your mouth any more 
an’ you couldn’t use it. I miss my guess if that 



Vox~Popping 


299 


tongue o’ yours wasn’t pickled in salt an’ vinegar 
before it grew in your bead! ” 

Why, Melissa Talbot! ” gasped Miss Louella. 
You, a Christian woman! talkin’ slang an’ 
throwin’ my teeth in my face.! I never heard the 
like in all my born days! ” 

Maybe not, so it’s time you did,— that’s what! 
Mrs. Talbot voiced her last words so violently that 
they seemed like stones she was hurling at the 
astonished postmistress. 

I’ve one thing more to say ’bout your tongue, 
Louella, an’ then I’m goin’; an’ it ain’t my inten¬ 
tion to speak pious like a Christian, but like a 
human bein’. I’d like to take hold o’ the end o’ 
your tongue an’ pull at it like a piece o’ ’lastic 
so’s it’d snap back at your face an’ give you a sting, 
like the tongue-lashin’s you’re so liberal with ’bout 
the Graysons. Good-bye, all! ” 

Mrs. Talbot departed with a smile that was like 
a banner of triumph, leaving the women stunned 
into silence until Mrs. Hertz managed to wheeze 
Just so,” as though corroborating the attack on 
Miss Louella. 



CHAPTEE XXVII' 


IF 

Susan Avery and Tom McGillicuddy were on 
tlieir way to liave supper at the Graysons\ Tom 
had just returned from Washington, and he and 
Susan had met, according to arrangement, in the 
churchyard where they now sat together on the 
stone wall. This was their favorite meeting-place 
because it was the scene of their first encounter, on 
the Sunday night when Nancy had brought them 
together. 

There was time to spare, and they lingered in the 
quiet, secluded place, discussing Tom^s trip to 
Washington and their wedding which was only two 
days away. 

I ran into an old buddy in Washington. Had 
dinner with him and his wife one night. They’re a 
jolly pair, very much in love, and always teasing 
each other like a couple of kids. She was a Eed 
Cross nurse during the War, and the three of us 
sat up until dawn swapping experiences. It was a 
great night! ” 

The ocean boomed a sullen undertone to the 
symphony of village sounds that drifted to their 
ears, and the grinding shriek of a scythe being 
sharpened rose above the distant clamor of barn- 

300 


If 


301 


yard cacklings, barking dogs, mooing cows, and 
laughing children at play in the gardens. 

^^Two more days, Susan,” he pressed her hand 
affectionately, and we’ll be starting off together! 
Girl, that word ^ together ’ makes my heart do a 
song and dance.” 

Susan’s reply was an uplifted glance of her 
brown eyes, brimming with love and gratitude. 

“We’ll spend a week or two in New York,” he 
continued. “ It’ll be a novelty to you,—the crowds, 
the noise, the high buildings, and the splendor. 
You’ll get some eyeful, believe me! Then for home! 
There’ll be no dressmaking for you there, old girl! 
I want you to forget how to thread a needle. It’s 
a long gaze you need to drive that tired, strained 
look from your eyes, and you’ll get it out there. 
I’m going to teach you to ride. Then we’ll go on 
camping-trips up the mountains, and I’ll show you 
what the world looks like—fresh from the hand of 
God.” 

“ It seems too good to be true,” said Susan with 
a low, gurgling laugh. “You’ve made the world 
over for me.” 

“ Nothing’s too good to be true,” he replied. “ I 
want you to myself for a while. Then I’ll have 
your family come out. They need transplanting. 
There’s an empty house on my place, over a mile 
from our home, that they can have. Your father 




302 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons"" 


has got on the wrong side of life here. The air out 
there will stiffen his backbone and make him realize 
that life isn’t a rest-cure.” 

You’re wonderfully good, Tom. I never 
dreamed that the world could hold so much happi¬ 
ness as you’ve given me. If only Nancy and Dick 
could be as happy as we are! ” 

What’s the matter with them? Have they 
quarreled and broken their engagement? ” 

Oh, no! ” cried Susan, nothing like that! It’s 
worse, much worse. I didn’t write to tell you about 
it, but, while you were away, some one sent Miss 
Louella a newspaper in which there was an account 
of a war wedding between Dick Thorold and a Bed 
Cross nurse. Dick hasn’t the faintest recollection 
of it; but you know he was terribly wounded and 
shell-shocked. As Nancy says, the marriage may 
have taken place, while he was not in a condition 
to know what was happening to him or to recall it 
afterwards. Why, he can’t even remember where 
the hospital was! 

“Dick’s lawyers have started an investigation, 
but, until the nurse is found and her story known, 
Dick and Nancy feel that the awful newspaper may 
be telling the truth; especially, as it mentions his 
seal ring being used in the ceremony. Dick has 
never been able to account for its loss. It’s an 
awful mix-up, and-” 




If 


303 


Hold your liorses, Susan/^ broke in Tom. 

Wbat was the nurse^s name? 

I don’t quite remember,—er—something like— 
er—Grimshaw, I think.” 

Sacre bleu and Donner und Blitzen! ejacu¬ 
lated Tom, as he slid off the wall. That’s two 
ways of saying ^ Gee whiz! ’ ” He glanced at his 
watch and held out a helping hand. Let’s toddle 
along or we’ll be late. Your story has made my 
naturally slow intelligence leap to the conclusion 
that this world isn’t such a large place after all; 
but it’s a rum queer world. I’ll say. And now, I 
have a little spiel to make that will be news to 
Nancy and Dick. Let’s make it snappy.” 

News? What is it? Oh, Tom, tell me! ” urged 
Susan with panting breaths, as they hastened out 
of the churchyard. 

Keep your hair on! ” admonished Tom with his 
one-sided smile. I’m going to show you all how 
the wheels go round in the long arm of coincidence.” 

Tom’s long strides which Susan accompanied 
with little running steps soon brought them to 
Cedar Street. Dick’s car was stationed at the Gray¬ 
sons’ gate, where Noki was adjusting a tire. 

Blig man with blig name coming along, I see,” 
he announced to Dick, who was standing with 
Nancy just inside. 

Grannie was seated in the garden near the out- 





304 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


door supper-table, which was being set by Oonah 
and the younger members of the family. 

Cheerio! was Tom^s greeting, and they all 
crossed over to Grannie. 

At the sight of Tom, the twins rushed forward 
and threw themselves upon him. 

^^Did you see the President in Washington?’^ 
demanded Flip. 

‘‘ Sure, I did. He was asking about the two of 
you; hopes you will both join his cabinet soon. 
Och! Oonah mavourneen, the pride av me hearut! ” 
Tom always addressed Oonah in an exaggerated 
brogue. It’s glad I am to see yez. Shure, it’s 
been a long toime since me eye hez been dazzled 
by the sight av yer swate face. The top av the 
mornin’ to yez, Oonah! ” 

Oonah set a chocolate cake on the table and faced 
Tom with a shrewd, friendly smile. Iv you think 
your blarneyin’, broguein’ tongue’ll get you into 
hivin, you’ve got dishappointmint ahead av you, 
there’s divil a doubt av that. The howly St. Pay- 
ter’ll take your soft spache wid a slice o’ lemon, 
he will that. An’ thin he’ll be sendin’ you down to 
where, it stands to raison, there’s niver a worrud 
av Irish spoken or heard, you may rest your sowl 
on that. Iv you always wore your head undher your 
hat, you’d be knowin’ it widout me tellin’. How, iv 
you’ll all take your places, I’ll be servin’ the supper 



7 /^ 

at wance, so’s you c’n ate while the heel av the day 
lasts.’^ 

The meal under the old apple-trees progressed 
with fun and laughter, in which Oonah often joined 
when she passed the plates around. Tom compli¬ 
mented her on her hot biscuits. 

It^s wishin’ I am, Alanna, that these biscuits 
av yours’d grow on bushes, loike the crabapples on 
the tree over yer head; an’ it’ll be a great day whin 
that happens, I’m thinkin’.” 

It will that,” agreed Oonah, “ fer pigs’ll hev 
wings an’ Ireland’ll hev Home Kule, wid sinse an’ 
wisdom to rule the home.” 

When the meal was finished Flip and Flop ran 
off, in pursuit of a luna moth that fluttered over 
their heads. The others lingered at the table while 
the west-dipping sun painted the garden with a 
crimson haze, as the day softly melted into even¬ 
ing. Purple shadows began to creep from under 
the trees, and the flowers’ benediction of dewy 
sweetness was breathed upon the air. 

There was a brief silence, broken by the striking 
of matches when Tom and Dick lighted their 
cigarettes, from which the smoke curled, floated, 
and faded; like little ghosts of the thoughts that 
lurked in the minds of all. 

Tom, what about the long arm of coincidence? ” 
asked Susan. 



306 The Good-for^Nothing Graysons "" 


I’m going to stretcli it now.” Tom lighted a 
second cigarette and turned to Dick, who was be¬ 
side Nancy at one end of the table. Susan has told 
me about the snag you are up against,—that war 
wedding.” 

Dick nodded, and his hand reached out to 
Nancy’s which rested on the table. 

“ While I was in Washington,” continued Tom, 
I met an old buddy,—Bill Henshaw.” 

Henshaw f ” exclaimed Dick. Why, that’s-” 

Tom’s voice flowed on, sweeping aside the inter¬ 
ruption. 

I had dinner with him and his wife and, as I 
told Susan, we sat up all night, swapping yarns. 
Mrs. Henshaw had an interesting story to tell. 
She and Bill, by the way, were married just before 
he went overseas, and they kept the marriage quiet 
because she was going over with the Bed Cross. 
You know, there was some regulation against of¬ 
ficers’ wives going over in any official capacity.” 

Dick moved uneasily in his chair and his grasp 
on Nancy’s hand tightened, as he repressed an im¬ 
pulse to murmur impatiently, Come to Hecuba.” 

^^Well, Mrs. Henshaw’s story had to do with 
an entertainment which the boys and nurses ar¬ 
ranged as a sort of antidote to the merry hell the 
Germans had been serving up with their usual 
efficiency. It was a vaudeville show, and one of 




If 


307 


the acts was a mock marriage, with Nurse Henshaw 
as the bride and one of the wounded soldiers as the 
groom. The officiating ^ meenister ’ was Alexander 
MacPherson, wffio is now leading comedian in a 
Broadway musical show.’’ 

Nancy looked at Dick with a puzzled query in 
her eyes. His face was rigid and white with 
restrained impatience and agitation while Tom 
paused to relight his cigarette, vainly scratching 
the damp matches and tossing them aside. 

Oonah came out with a sweater for Monica and 
an old wrought-iron lantern which Harry hung on 
a bough of the apple-tree over the table. Through 
the interlaced scrolls of its design the light of the 
lantern glowed with a mellow radiance, making it 
seem like a magic fruit growing among the dusky 
leaves. Oonah sat on a rustic bench and the twins, 
exhausted with their futile chase of the moth, 
snuggled beside her. The air was vocal with the 
harsh, grating noise of katydids, and from one of 
the trees came the plaintive call of a whippoorwill. 

Tom, sheltering a lighted match in his cupped 
hands, succeeded in putting a glow on the end of 
his cigarette as an exasperated Chut! ” escaped 
from Dick’s lips. 

Tom’s voice drawled on. The act went over 
big, but the funny part of it is that Mrs. Henshaw 
doesn’t remember the name of the chap who played 



308 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons " 


the unwilling bridegroom. The role fell to him by 
the drawing of numbers, she said; and if she knew 
his name at the time, it didn^t stick in her memory. 
She told the story with funny imitations of the 
^ meenister ’ and the reluctant groom, and it gave 
us a big laugh. Bill teased her a lot about it and 
said that whenever Greta was hard to manage he 
could make her eat out of his hand by threatening 
to have her arrested for bigamy.’’ 

Dick was the man,—the bridegroom! ” cried 
Joan, and he isn’t married after all! It was just 
a lark, a bit of spoofing! ” 

Tom nodded and blew out rings of smoke. 

Thank God! ” murmured Dick, as he raised 
Nancy’s hand to his lips. 

Glory be! ” exclaimed Oonah. Praises an’ 
blissin’s! ” 

“ The only thing that worries Greta,” Tom went 
on, is the seal ring, a valuable antique. She still 
has it and would like to return it to its owner. I’ll 
telegraph Bill to-morrow.” 

“ Oh! ” breathed Nancy. Everything is— 
is-” 

Hunky-dory,” finished Harry. 

Her face was radiant. Susan, when you knitted 
that pair of socks for the Bed Cross, you little 
thought that the happiness of so many lives was 
twisted in the skein of yarn you used, did you? 




If 


309 


If you hadn’t knitted those socks, and if you hadn’t 
put your name and address inside them, Tom 
wouldn’t have written to you and he wouldn’t have 
come here to see you! And where should we be, 
without Tom? ” 

He is our deus ex machina,” laughed Dick. 

Oh, spare my blushes! ” said Tom with visible 
embarrassment. Can the compliments I I may 
be a deuce of a machine, as you say; but I’ve done 
nothing to make a song and dance about.” 

You hme! ” insisted Nancy. “ Your coming to 
Cassburn has filled our lives with enchantment. 
Without you, Mr. Alden would still be breaking his 
heart over his son, not knowing that Ted had risen 
to the triumph of a hero’s death; and Dick and 

I-” her voice faltered. Oh, it might have 

taken an endless time to untangle the snarl of that 
newspaper story! And you, Susan, how your life 
has changed! Think of an insignificant pair of 
socks being a web of destiny! All our lives seem 
to hinge on the ‘ if ’ of your making them. If you 
hadn’t-” 

‘‘ But I did,” laughed Susan. I knitted scores 
of pairs, though I put my name and address in only 
one pair, the pair that happened to reach Tom. If 
they had gone to some one else,—^well, there’s an¬ 
other ^ if.’ ” 

^ There’s much virtue in if /” quoted Grannie. 





310 The Good-for-Nothing Graysons 


My sowl to glory! ” Oonak rose from the bench 
and stood under the glow of the lantern. ^‘You 
c’n talk av all the virtuous ^ iv’s ’ settin’ the worruld 
right, an’ you c’n kape it up till mornin’ iv you 
want to; but at prisent spakin’ there’s only wan 
thing that’s worth me breath to say; an’ it’s wishin’ 
I am that I could sing it, fer it’s ringin’ in my 
heart loike a bell.” 

What is it, Oonah? ” asked Dick. 

God bliss Tom McGillicuddy, though it cracks 
me jaw to say his name! ” 


THE END 




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